Threads I
by Lense
Summary: B-4 is left alone in the shadow of his deceased brother surrounded by seemingly empty galaxy but he will soon find that it is not so desolate as he believed. The second part in a series of stories.
1. Chapter 1

At the end of Descent and Nemesis the brothers are strewn so far apart that any attempt to bring them back together would seem inconsistent with what is considered canon. But it is my hope that I can write a story to tell how a family can be sewn back together through the invisible threads which bind us all.

- Lense

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Chapter 1 - Memories

[Waking Up by Saru]

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"_Maybe he's not supposed to be like you, Data... maybe he's supposed to be exactly the way he is."_

Sitting up, suddenly wide awake, B-4 pondered the meaning of Commander LaForge's words. They were the words of Data's closest friend after he had decided to allow B-4 to undergo a core memory download procedure. The procedure had taken place nearly a year ago, just before Data's death.

B-4 let out a long sigh, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. Data had expected the procedure to successfully integrate his abilities and memories into his own. Initially, the procedure failed; however, it had given him the necessary programming for the development of his own neural net. No one was aware that Data's programming had given B-4's positronic matrix the ability to develop on its own. And slowly, like coming out of a black, empty fog, he remembered the events leading to his arrival on the Enterprise.

_It was such a strange feeling, being separated from one's body, but it B-4 neither noticed nor cared. Several pieces of his body were scattered in the surrounding area. The light of Kolarus III glared down into B-4's eyes and still he did not notice. The arid environment hissed, a hypnotizing sound. B-4's memories came and went. How long had he been lying there in the sand? Years? Or had it only been minutes? His internal chronometer was damaged and time crept by at a lonely pace. _

_The sun was at its highest point in the sky when a shadow crossed over his face. The blinding light was blocked by the tall figure as he was removed from the dusty ground. The one who had picked him up had familiar face. _

"_Fascinating." It said. _

"Fascinating_." B-4 echoed in a glitching voice subroutine. He had never seen __anyone__ who even remotely resembled him. It did not matter to him._

"_All things considered, Data, I think you have nicer eyes." Beverly Crusher's warm, mother-like face was only a few inches from his own. He did not comprehend what she meant by her statement, but he was simply enjoying her presence with mild curiosity. B-4 was reassembled after a few lofty questions from his brother, none of which he was able to answer. He flexed his fingers, a curious sensation._

B-4 rose from the tangled sheets, curling over his torso and taking in slow, steady breaths. After a few moments, he opened a drawer in Data's work-desk which contained various items. A few books, a case of medals, and a small replica of a blonde woman wearing a Starfleet uniform were contained in one; but another drawer had a single industrial-looking part inside of a container which also enclosed what looked like several memory chips. His brother's items held little meaning to him but the fact that they were Data's made them more sentimental. B-4 refused to let anyone to remove Data's personal belongings from his quarters, insisting upon being surrounded by his brother's former life. Over the course of the next few months, B-4 would remember bits and pieces of Data's previous life. One specific memory continued to surface; it was obviously one that Data had spent much of his time pondering as well.

_Lore's body lay motionless, draped over a chair._

"_I love you, Brother." His voice, emotionless and mechanical, held no pretense, and Data's gentle hands reached down to deactivate him._

"_Goodbye, Lore."_

Data often questioned whether he made the right choice and B-4's thoughts were now echoing his doubts. As he mulled over his actions of the few weeks spent with his brother, he was finally beginning to better understand past events of his life. He recalled the conversation between himself and his Data.

_B-4 awoke to find himself in a standing position. Looking to the side, he found Data observing his actions. B-4 attempted to move straighten his neck, as his head was lolling to the side. He was unable to make his muscles perform their functions._

"_Brother... I cannot move." At the time, B-4 felt genuine fear at the expressionless mask plastered over Data's face. _

"_No," Data began without emotion "I have only activated your cognitive and communications subroutines." _

"_Why?" B-4 asked sincerely, not expecting the response Data gave him. _

"_...Because you are dangerous." B-4 found it unsatisfactory. _

"_Why?" He asked again, his lack of understanding urging him to pry for more information, information that Data did not have the patience to give. _

"_You have been programmed to gather information that can be used against this ship." A long pause spiraled as B-4 tried to comprehend Data's words. _

"_I... do not... understand." B-4 finished lamely. _

"_I know." Data's words almost soothed B-4's fear. They held a sadness that opened a door into Data's true feelings for his brother. Perhaps B-4 could not grasp basic concepts; however, he was able to sense the emotions behind the humans he encountered and more importantly, his brother. _

_But the door slammed shut once again as Data continued with his interrogation. "Do you know anything about Shinzon's plans against the Federation?" he spoke coldly. _

"_No," B-4 gave a truthful answer. _

"_Do you have any knowledge of the tactical abilities of his ship?" He spoke with an equal amount ice in his tone. B-4 could hear the impasse in his voice and was subconsciously fearful that he may never hear his brother speak to him with genuine kindness again._

"_No," B-4 replied again as though the answer was evident, his voice wavering as though he were on the verge of tears. "Can I move now?" he asked desperately._

"_No."_

_Data reached for the small tool used to active B-4 consciousness. He began making adjustments in the small guidance access port located on the side of B-4 neck. "What are you doing?" B-4 asked with innocent fear. _

"_I must deactivate you." _

"_For how long?" The question struck Data by surprise; he had not given it thought. He doubted if it would ever be possible for B-4 to be repaired._

"_Indefinitely." He replied. There was a pause in B-4's questions as Data continued working. _

"_How long is th-" B-4 was cut off mid-sentence as his cognitive functions were terminated._

That was his last conversation with his brother and his last memory before he was reactivated, under Commander LaForge's supervision. B-4 had never intended to put the Enterprise in any kind of danger and Data had known that; but, instead of working to solve the problem and help his brother, he had found it easier to simply deactivate him and leave it at that.

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"_B-4. Please, have a seat," Captain Picard gently urged Data's brother to take a seat at the desk in front of him. B-4 took the necessary four steps to sit down, placing his hands on his knees. Curiosity was evident on his soft face._

"_I don't know if all this has made any sense but I wanted you to know what kind of man he was. In his quest to be more like us, he helped us to see what it means to be human." There was an echo of something on the captain's kind face that showed he desperately wanted B-4 to understand the meaning of what he had said. _

"_My... my brother was not human." Picard could not tell if this was a question or a statement. _

"_No. He wasn't... but his wonder, his curiosity about every facet of human nature allowed all of us to see the best parts of ourselves. He evolved... he embraced change... because he always wanted to be better than he was." Again, B-4 took his time to try and grasp the meaning of the captain's words. _

"_I... do not understand." the mechanical glitch smoothed out into a voice that so reminded the Captain of his old friend that it sent chills up his spine._

_Captain Picard sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well... I hope someday you will." Worf's voice patched through the Captain's comm on his desk informing him that the warp engines were online. _

"_We'll talk later." Picard said to B-4, not entirely sure he was even listening. The captain almost made it to the door of his ready room before he heard a snatch of a familiar song. _

_B-4 paused and repeated "Never saw the sun..." _

"_...Shining so bright." Picard supplied the rest of the line for him. _

"_Never saw things..." B-4 continued his melody in broken humming sounds, much like a child might do with a song he or she only knew partial lyrics of. _

"_Going so right." Picard sang barely above a whisper and B-4 echoed it back to him. _

_As Picard exited his ready room, he noted to himself, with a smile, how similar B-4 voice was to Data's own. With one last look at the android which resembled his old friend, Captain Picard continued down to Engineering._

_._

B-4 was fond of the Captain. He had only spoken with him once or twice, purely because he was too shy to seek him out more often. He regarded Captain Picard highly, but was not comfortable speaking with him about more personal issues. He had so many unanswered questions about his family so he decided to go to one person aboard the ship that he had recently come to trust.

"Geordi," B-4 had not come down to ten forward without reason. Geordi raised his electric blues eyes from his glass of dark liquid.

"Yeah, B. What's on your mind?" B-4 looked solemnly at the man whom had been Data's best friend and wondered if he would ever be a real friend of Geordi's, like Data had been.

"I would like to know about my brother." Geordi sighed and considered the question for a moment.

"You mean Data?"

B-4 simply shook his head in the negative.

Geordi stiffened when he realized what B-4 had meant by the inquiry. "Lore." It was not a question.

"Well, B, what would you like to know? I don't know much about him myself."

"One specific memory continues to occupy my thoughts, Geordi. It was obviously a memory that Data had spent much of his time pondering as well. Do you know what Lore's last words to his brother were?" Geordi only shook his head, interested in what B-4 had to say.

"He told him that he loved him. And Data could never figure that out. Neither can I."

"I don't know B. I find it hard to believe Lore was even capable of harboring those kinds of emotions for anyone…" A long silence spiraled as Geordi tried to find the right words to describe his thoughts. "Lore was... well I think he was either a disturbed person from something he may have experienced in his life or he was just wrong from the time he was first activated... He is responsible for the deaths of a lot people."

B-4 searched Geordi's face as he spoke, looking for anything that might give away what he was feeling. "What happened to him?" He asked.

Geordi's eyes narrowed very slightly. He continued dispassionately, "Lore was disassembled. Data deactivated him after being manipulated into doing some horrible things. Lore took advantage of Data's desire to feel emotions." B-4 considered this for a moment.

"Where is he now? I would have thought Data would have tried to help him overcome whatever is bothering him." He said innocently. "Or try and repair him if the issue wasn't psychological..."

"Lore was sent to the Daystrom Institute to be studied further. I'm sorry, B. He has proven time and time again that he is simply too dangerous to be dealt with," _Because you are dangerous..._ It was like Data to be so detached, to simply reject or abandon his family….

"Promise me you won't try and go after him..." Geordi caught B-4's eyes. "There are some things you just can't fix, B." B-4 returned Geordi's gaze and with determination, he told his first lie.

"I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Setting Forth

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"_If my memory engrams are successfully integrated into his positronic matrix, he should have all my abilities."_ Data's words echoed in B-4's mind and a ghost of a grin spread across his face as he chiseled into the site-to-site transporter code files nested in the ship's computer. Data had been more correct in his assumptions then he would ever care to admit.

_AUTO-TRANSPORT-4-0-6-7-5-4-3_

B-4's smile grew slightly wider once he had accessed the transporter coordinates for the near starbase. The ship's computer contained a vast collection of useful information. Under Data's clearance code, he was able to access star-charts from across quadrant and information regarding the individual traits of several Federation colonies within the area. The Enterprise's most recent course had taken them very close to Galor IV, the location of the Daystrom Institute.

It would be a tricky move to try and escape into such a large population but if he did, his chances of evading Starfleet would measurably increase. Resolve building in his chest, he stood and as the transporter whirred around his body. Data's quarters dissolved into a bustling, indoor market place.

His eyes widened in shock. He had never seen anything so surreal. So many people with unique thoughts and ever-changing plans making their way through crowds. It was strange how open it was. The ceiling was high above his head, with huge indoor trees brushing their glass panels. Beyond, he could see the glitter of starlight, peeking from behind their branches.

But when the reality of what he had done began to set in his mind, he nearly started to panic. The Enterprise would know, almost instantaneously, that he had beamed off of the ship. He had very little time to navigate his way off the starbase. Pushing aside his doubts, he sprinted towards the main halls that lead him to the transporter room.

The young woman operating the small transporter briefly looked up from her novel as he stepped through the door. He relayed the coordinates in a voice that did not portray confidence at all.

She cut him off. "I'll need your registration and visa, please." she said in a tone that convinced him she truly wished to be elsewhere. He handed her the two small data-chips–taken from Data's computer console–which contained necessary information for travel.

"Thank you, Mr. Data." The young woman clipped, motioning for him to step onto the transporter pad. He felt something stir in his chest at her words. Was it recognition? Resentment_?_ Borrowing Data's information had seemed so natural that he had completely overlooked that fact that he would be impersonating his brother for the duration of his travels.

There was a pause in his thoughts as the white light enveloped him for the second time that day. He stepped off the smaller transporter pad and navigated his way through an older building that needed serious maintenance. When he pushed open an old fashioned glass door, he found himself on a poorly lit street, littered with broken glass and trash. He looked at the evening sky, a pink-to-black gradient. The street was ominously silent, no scuffling of rodents or even the whisper of wind. He could not help but feel an eerie sensation in the night, as though something was constantly watching him, waiting… He started off towards the center of the metropolis, still trying to shake the feeling.

* * *

"Commander!" At the severe tone of Ensign Conway's voice, Geordi LaForge looked up from the main display of Engineering.

"Yeah, Liz what is it?" She was relatively new to the Enterprise but showed much promise. If only she would learn to take a little more confidence in her work.

She steadied herself with a breath and began "Sir, I'm detecting an unauthorized site-to-site transport originating from this ship."

Geordi's brow furrowed. "From which deck?"

"Deck 8, sir," she glanced down at the display console, "...Commander Data's quarters." Her puzzled tone gave away her growing interest in the situation.

Geordi tapped his comm badge. "LaForge to Captain Picard."

"_Yes Mr. LaForge. What is it?"_

"Captain, I think B-4 has left the Enterprise."

"_Have Mr. Barclay keep an eye on his signal. I want to know where he's headed. But for now report to the bridge, please."_

"Aye, sir!" Geordi glided over to the turbolift with the urgency that was required of all Starfleet officers.

On the bridge, Geordi LaForge was monitoring B-4's blinking red signal. _What does he think he's doing? _He could not understand why B-4 might do something like this. If he wanted to leave, he was free to go–though the thought of his friend leaving troubled him. Even so, he did not have to sneak around like a criminal.

Captain Picard had already sent Commander Worf and Lt. Avery after him, so there was not much left for Geordi to do. He was ready to get back on task; but, he watched as B-4's signal slowed to a stop, and then vanished.

Down on the starbase Worf and Avery scanned the area for B-4's signal. The station was rather crowded and if it were not for B-4's unique energy pattern, the task of finding him may have been difficult. Though they searched, his signature was absent from the station.

"I do not understand what reason he would have to leave the Enterprise." Worf glanced again at his tricorder readings. "His behavior makes me... uneasy."

"We should check the station's transporter logs."

"Agreed." Worf glanced around one last time, and then motioned for the away team to gather. Commander LaForge met them in the transporter room.

Geordi was beginning to feel concerned for B-4's safety. He had hoped that B-4 had only gone to the starbase to get a little bit of freedom. Now he was beginning to think that this had more to do with their conversation about Lore. Maybe if he had told him a little bit more about his family, he would not... Geordi shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. He deeply cared for Data's brother. After fifteen years, Data was like family and now B-4 was all that remained in his absence.

Geordi and Data had worked together to try and help B-4 develop into a more complete individual. But Data had felt B-4's existence threatened the security of the Enterprise, so he deactivated his only remaining brother after failing to repair him. It had been Geordi's idea to reactivate B-4 after Data's death. He felt it was cruel to simply leave B-4 in that state, especially when there was even the smallest chance for him to make something with his life. He remembered the first signs of B-4's development.

_There was an audible click as Geordi made one final adjustment in B-4's guidance access port located on his neck. He planned on removing it after running a few tests on B-4's neural net. The instant his cognitive functions came online, B-4's eyes widened in surprise. _

"_Where... am I?" He turned his head to the side. The small, benign smile was absent from his face. He was confused, Geordi knew, and sympathized for him._

"_You're in Engineering." He tried a gentle smile, hoping that this would console him, but B-4 only frowned back. He seemed to have a sixth-sense in that he could interpret others' emotions._

"_Why?" _

"_We've reactivated you. You deserve a chance, like the rest of us." Geordi paused and looked him over._

"_Where is... my brother?" Even in their simplicity, his questions had a strange way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter._

"_B-4, it's only been about a week since you were deactivated, but... a lot has happened. Data... he's not with us anymore."_

"_I do not understand." Geordi swore he could almost see fear in his eyes. _

"_Data was... deactivated... in a sense. I'm afraid we can't bring him back. We... won't be seeing him anymore." This was hard, even to admit to himself. He was still in a state of shock and he could not believe that his best friend of seventeen years was simply gone. He struggled, but continued, "After I'm done running a few diagnostics, the Captain would also like to speak to you."_

_After their conversation, Geordi found B-4 in Data's quarters, sitting on the couch, with Spot in his arms, humming some tune which Geordi remembered but could not name. At a loss of words, he simply sat next to him and watched. B-4 looked up curiously for a moment but continued petting Spot. _

"_I came to check up on you." Geordi's comment went unacknowledged. A minute went by, two minutes. He felt silence spiral horribly around him and found that could not stay in Data's old quarters any longer. He rose, and B-4 stopped his actions to peer at his company._

"_If you need anything... you can find me in Engineering." B-4 still did not understand the true depth of the loss but Geordi hoped that given enough time he would. As he brushed past the door heard B-4's voice over his shoulder._

"_Thank you... Geordi." _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

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_Months earlier–_

Naghera Ilyn fell back against the plush chair, her head falling into her trembling hands. For the second time this month, she had met with the ambassadors of the Dominion envoy, negotiating for the release of a young girl at the urging of Idhaman's former Prime Minister. The Prime Minister's daughter was of the age of twelve when she was abducted along with thousands of other civilians. Initially, the return seemed like a reasonable request. But she was now twenty-two and it was uncovered that in the ten years time elapsed, she was with child and in union to an official of the Dominion Intelligence Agency. The line previously drawn between imprisonment and hospitality was no longer quite so clear…

She had assumed Jamaal's position as High Priestess after the war and her presumed death, and was reappointed at the end of every season. The position was not all what it was said to be. And when was anything ever? There was a gentle knock at the door.

"Enter."

The office slid open and Jamaal hesitantly stepped around it, her hands clasped behind her back in a show of respect. "Priestess, I have a request."

"By all means."

"Despite my… unique… vantage I have been among the delegation negotiating for the release of our citizens during the past two seasons."

"You have been an invaluable asset."

Jamaal nodded slowly and continued. "There is one of your lieutenants who was withheld from the negotiations… Lore."

Ilyn's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes I remember. Lore was not among the ships captured or destroyed in the battle. His official records state that he defected to the Federation."

"I do not believe that is accurate. He was assigned a diplomatic mission, which failed and I believe it is possible that he was a victim of the effects of war as many others. Regardless, his motives are uncertain and his whereabouts are unknown. Request permission to begin an investigation."

"Granted. Assemble a team."

* * *

B-4 rode a slow turbo lift with glass windows up to the ground level where he knew the bustle of life was waiting. He stared straight up into the blue sky of Galor IV as he stepped off the lift. He found himself standing on a plaza, in what appeared to be downtown Arryn. Arryn was a rather large city –even by large city standards– but the coordinates which he ripped off of the Enterprise's data banks should have put him near the Daystrom Institute.

He watched as people crowded into public transit stations, finding their way to their destinations. B-4 felt detached from all of them. What was it like to live a normal life? He would often sit in Ten Forward aboard the Enterprise for hours, just watching. It was a curious thing to see the different actions of people. Some would sit alone while others enjoyed the company of a group. B-4 generally always sat alone, not because people avoided him but because he preferred it. He could not stand to look at someone he had never met before and by some means recognize their face. It was not fair for either of them.

So he would sit alone and peer out into the black void that glittered with broken shards of glass. His family often occupied his thoughts. He had many of Data's memories and he knew Data probably better than anyone else. But he had a different perspective than Data. His brother had been placed outside of humanity which gave him an interesting view on life. B-4 was not given life in the same fashion.

His thoughts tumbled over one another as he turned onto Froman Avenue with a cursory glance at the street signs. His brother Lore had been abandoned by Data, and B-4 was determined to make right what Data had done wrong. Data deactivated B-4 under nearly the same logic he had deactivated Lore. He believed that they were dangerous, but did Data ever truly understand the meaning of family? B-4 would find his brother, not only because he did not want to live his life alone, but also because he was immensely curious as to who Lore was and of the reasons behind his descent.

He pushed these thoughts into the back of his mind as he approached a large, stark-looking structure that stood apart from the surrounding buildings. _The Daystrom Institute._ Several groups of young adults that he may have guessed to be students were entering and leaving the building's main entrance. He slipped between the doors, trying not to attract attention to himself.

When he was on the Enterprise, B-4 looked up everything he might need in order to find to his brother. He memorized the floors that were devoted to active research. The only variable was that he had no idea what would happen if he _was_ successful in reaching Lore. He had means of leaving the Galor IV without being detected, but he was not sure if he could repair the damage inflicted on his brother. He was not even sure how extensive the damage to Lore's body would be. He shuddered at the idea of someone like himself being scattered in pieces. He had not enjoyed being deactivated even for a short period of time and he felt sympathy for the sibling he did not know.

B-4 made his way through hallways, the tall glass windows allowing ruby-tinted sunlight to stream through in the morning. But as he descended down further into the complex, the only light that was available were the fluorescent lights that streaked overhead as passed. The students had thinned out and the only people he saw were wearing Starfleet uniforms or white lab coats. As he rounded a corner, he nearly knocked over a slight, severe looking woman whose glasses did not ease her austere appearance. "Excuse me, these floors are off-limits to students without proper authorization,"

She looked as though she might continue so B-4 cut her off. "Yes, Doctor Maddox has sent me down here to examine professor Kaminski's research. He felt it would be imperative to my final essay that I look closer into the applications of metaphysical cybernetics." He remembered the names from Data's memory as well as the research he had done back on the Enterprise. She sniffed and nodded him on his way.

Minutes later, he stopped at a door labeled _Inactive Research 14-C. _

He stepped through the single door into a medium sized laboratory that was bare except for a few empty shipping containers. Had he come to the right room? A small, older computer hummed in the corner, covered in a thin layer of dust. The screen appeared as though someone had hastily wiped it clean with their hand, and quite recently at that.

He looked into the files containing information on all the Soong-type androids.

**Lore, Soong-type E**

**Activated: September 9, 2335.**

**Status: Deactived, disassembled.**

**Location: Daystrom Institute, Cybernetics, Level D, Inactive Research 14-C.**

No mistakes, this was where Lore was supposed to be and yet he was not. How was this possible? The Daystrom Institute was not the kind of facility that allowed files to just go stale. In his frustration, he slammed his fist against the wall to his left, leaving a strange warning sensation in his hand. Failure leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. B-4 had no idea where Lore might be now.

* * *

"_You're_ Abe Froman? The _Sausage_ King of Chicago?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Discovery

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_Weeks Before–_

Captain Picard was reading through the latest Federation news headlines, when the door of his ready room chirped. "Come," he glanced up and saw Riker grinning as he crept over the threshold. Picard vaguely wondered how the first officer aboard the Titan was handling ship's management. "Ahh, I didn't think I would be seeing you again so soon, _Captain._" He used Will Riker's new title.

"Interesting assignment, eh?" Riker sat down in front of his previous captain.

"It is proving to bring up a lot of old questions, Number One." Picard looked thoughtfully at the padd. He had been perusing all relevant information on the current mission as well as Daystrom Institute's security logs over the past three months.

"Tell me," Riker sighed, stretching out his long legs before him. "How long has it been since you've thought about Lore?"

Picard rubbed his chin in thought. "I admit I had not thought of him since his deactivation. He seemed to have some very serious issues… It was ultimately Data's decision. But he was Data's only remaining family... I guess I had not considered what kind of ramifications it may have on him–or B-4." He added as an after-thought.

"Frankly, with his body missing, I am worried about the safety of the Federation. Last time he went rouge…" Riker's tone implied concern.

"Well, he is only _missing_… his body sustained heavy damage and we have no way of knowing whether he has been reactivated or not. According to the investigators he was taken very recently and someone attempted to erase the files containing Soong journals and specifications. The suspect may return to complete the task."

Riker raised his eyebrows skeptically, opening his mouth to speak, but the comm on Captain Picard's desk interrupted his next words. "Captain. I just received new intelligence from Daystrom Annex detectives. Request permission to beam down an away team?" Worf's tone was that of a caged lion.

"Granted. Bring back some answers, Mr. Worf."

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* * *

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Jamaal impatiently ran her hands over the dusty computer screen. She did not have a lot of time and any obstacle that stole seconds away from her only added to her irritation. She had already been confronted by elderly, bespectacled man and was forced to lock him into lab. The place would be crawling with security teams soon and she needed to work quickly and without obstruction.

She attempted to download the files that contained information on Lore. Her access was denied, over and over again. Obviously she was not as good with computers as she initially thought. Giving up on trying, she focused on the more prevalent task at hand.

Lore's body was scattered in several pod containers locked inside stasis units. She set transporter nodes on each one of the pods and began beaming the containers one at a time into a cargo unit on her ship. She had no idea how dire his condition would be but she had read through the reports of the cybernetics unit of the Daystrom Institute, and knew that she would have her work cut out for her.

Again she tried working at the computer.

**SECURITY BREACHED. ENGAGING SHUT DOWN PROCEDURES…**

Jamaal's hands froze over the portable keypad. Black letters blazed across unyielding blue. This portion of the computer's main frame was shutting down as a security measure to prevent theft or destruction. It was her cue. She yanked out the data chip, rolled up her keypad and slammed her small folder shut, shoving them all inside of her sling-pack.

Jamaal slipped out the door and ran through the tiled corridors, her boots screeching against the waxed tile floors and echoing down the open halls. The moon light flashed across her face as she dashed past tall windows that allowed the night's sunlight to stream through.

As she reached the upper levels she became distinctly aware of the security teams that were hovering around nearly all the exits on the ground floor. There was no way this was simply coincidence. Rethinking her strategy, she started towards a different exit near the east wing of the complex. She fired off a couple of shots from her weapon at the black-suited men charging towards her as she practically dove into a turbolift. The doors lazily slid closed behind her, as though mocking her.

Breathing heavily, she tried to regain her composure while stealing a glance at her tricorder. She cursed. There was a group of about fifteen guards waiting for her on the base floor. Her hand flashed out and she punched the second floor button.

She raised her phaser as the turbo lift doors slid open but no one was there to greet her. Turning around a corner, she made her way to an emergency exit. She shoved against the door but it would not open. Locked.

"Hands up, where we can see them." A deep, animal-like voice spoke from behind her. She froze, her back still turned to them. She pivoted slowly with her palms facing outward, a daring grin spread across her face.

Without another word, the klingon who had spoken, stepped around her and took her left arm. All at once she brought her elbow to his face with her right arm and spun to try and escape his grasp on her left. One of the other security team members fired his phaser and then, for Jamaal, consciousness was an abstraction.

.

* * *

_Weeks Later__–_

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B-4 was escorted back to the Enterprise, where they had confined him to his own quarters so that he would not be able to use any of Data's belongings to his advantage. His brother had simply vanished, leaving behind him no intimation of where he may have been taken. B-4 sighed, letting boredom get the best of him as he stared at the white light pouring down into his eyes. He waited nearly an hour before the door gave off a chime, slicing into his boredom.

"Enter." he said. To his surprise, Beverly Crusher hesitantly stepped around the security officers, into his quarters.

"Hello, B. How are you?" She used the nickname Geordi had given him. She felt as though 'B-4' could be rather impersonal. He shrugged.

"I'm functioning within acceptable parameters." His tone was teetering on the edge of sarcasm. She pretended not to notice.

"So… I heard about your little trek across the quadrant." She smiled, he said nothing. "You do realize you are going to have to accept the consequences for your actions, don't you?"

He nodded.

"Captain Picard expects you in the staff's lounge in a half an hour. Would you like someone to talk to until then?" To be honest he had not had a real conversation with anyone for a while.

Giving in to his loneliness he responded, "I would not mind, no." She gave him a smile that reached her eyes and he gestured for her to sit down, taking a seat himself.

"You've given your friends on the Enterprise quite a scare."

"I… had a few personal ends to tie up." He was still disappointed that he had exhausted so much energy on this one task, only to meet a dead-end.

"Personal ends, B?" She raised her eyebrows in a silent plea.

"It's my brother... Lore. I have to find him." He looked up at her from under his lashes, doubtful that she would understand. How could he explain to her why he was chasing shadows?

"The brother you've never met." She replied flatly.

"Exactly."

"You know… I would consider myself lucky if I had never met Lore." She paused. "I'm not sure what you think you'll find in him but I highly doubt he is what you're hoping for." She sat back as B-4 stood up and began pacing.

"Yes, yes... right. You believe you know exactly what I want. You believe I would search out my brother because I'm convinced that he is better than he really is. But all I really want… is to know him. I have no pretenses for what he may be like and I feel like I... _deserve_ the opportunity to know him, to try and understand his actions..." Anger was growing in his chest, an anger that was like a fire, consuming everything in its path. At times it seemed his emotions would engulf him, threatening to push him past self-control. He unclenched his fists, unaware that he had flexed them in the first place.

She stood as well. "What if there isn't anything to get to know? What if Lore is exactly as he's been described to you? The cold man who manipulated Data to the breaking point and who would probably do the same to you, purely out of his need for revenge. What then, B?

"I have lost one of my dearest friends. I will not lose you as well. You are free to come and go as you like, but we will not allow you to place yourself in danger." Emotion colored her voice. He had never heard her speak with so much conviction. Data, a man whom had changed her life –and even changed her definition of life– was gone now and B-4 was all that was left in his place. The seconds passed by as he settled into an eerie calm, staring into nothingness while absorbing her words.

"Captain Picard still expects you in the staff's lounge, don't be late." She attempted a small smile and backed out of the room.

He watched her leave, rue permeating through his thoughts. He wished he had something to say that could ease her worry. He wanted to thank her for her company. But he did not find the courage to voice his thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Echoes

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Picard had always appreciated Beverly Crusher's distinctive beauty. But it was her unique approach when interacting with others which he truly admired. She had an almost mother-like quality about her which would pacify even the most petulant old man.

"We couldn't find any files for her in Starfleet or Federation records." She sounded rueful. It was not uncommon to find stragglers in the galaxy that had been successful at eradicating their identities or that were from unexplored systems. Beverly noted the captain lifting his chin in thought. The door chimed, breaking the silence between them.

"Come," B-4 stepped over the threshold apprehensively, taking a seat next to Dr. Crusher. She gave him a tiny, encouraging smile.

"There have been multiple attempts to break through Daystrom Security in the past months. In fact, we have custody of the intruder who attempted to eradicate Lore's records." The captain paused and looked B-4 solemnly in his eyes. "I expect nothing but an honest answer from you. Do you know anything about this?"

"No sir, I do not." B-4 was just as curious about this intruder as the Captain.

"She is in confinement aboard the Enterprise." Picard took a deep breath. "She hasn't spoken to anyone."

"What is her name?"

"She won't even tell us that," Dr. Crusher interjected. "We have no records for her in any Federation census databases."

"Perhaps I could speak with her." He spoke with such confidence, imploring the captain to give in to his request.

Captain Picard shook his head "Hm... These are sensitive situations. What makes you believe she will speak to you?"

"She may have known Data… or Lore… perhaps she would speak to a familiar face…?" Dr. Crusher was grabbing at straws. B-4 turned to the captain again, expectantly.

Picard nodded thoughtfully. "Very well, give it a try."

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* * *

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Jamaal had not spoken a word since she came on board. Yesterday in sick bay she watched in stony silence as the red-headed physician –Dr. Crusher was her name– mended her arm. She had merely flinched when the bone was reset.

Dr. Crusher also happened to be the ship's counselor. She had not given the doctor a response to any of her questions, only meeting her eyes from time to time. In her holding cell, the security officers would often try to speak to her. It was all too easy to ignore them with stoicism, her thoughts drifting up and away from her like a deep wood smoke.

"And she still will not tell you her name?" At the sound of that voice –_his_ voice– Jamaal turned and stood up abruptly.

"No." She heard the security officer's only vaguely in the back of her mind; she was too preoccupied with the man who stood behind the force field. His appearance sent her mind spiraling into confusion.

"Data?" she asked suspiciously of the pale android, her blue eyes piercing his own.

Her predatory stare had a hypnotizing effect, as a mouse caught in the gaze of a snake. Her dirty, limp hair hid much of her face, but it did nothing to diminish the effect of fixation. Her eyes did not leave his as the security officer lowered the force field and B-4 stepped through with measured calm.

"No." He clipped, dragging a chair to sit beside her.

"My name is B-4," he paused only for a moment but continued. "You should know why I'm here."

She turned her face, intentionally staring him down.

"And what do you know of Data?" He asked her.

"Who are you?" she snapped, pushing his question aside aggressively.

"I've already told you, now if you would please answer my question." Frustration lashed out through his words. She looked away, lips sealed. He gave her a few moments and then he decided to ask a different question, one that pertained more to the issue at hand.

"What do you know of _Lore_?" He glimpsed a break in her facade for a brief second. He had caught her off guard. The silence spiraled, mixing with the deep pulse of the warp engines.

_Enough_ _that it still haunts me. _Her eyes were distant and she was lost to her thoughts.

B-4 leaned back in his chair, letting the silence return to its previous volume. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way.

"I'm very young, you know…. I haven't had much time to subject myself to the vast _ocean_ of culture that is available to the rest of us. And I've taken to reading several classic works of literature that people suggest for me. I only just finished Atlas Shrugged. Maybe you've heard of it?" he paused, waiting for a reply. "No? Well that's a shame. It has an interesting, somewhat backwards logic. One of my favorite characters watches as everything around her begins to collapse… She's surrounded by people pursuing selfish avenues for material gain in a struggle for political power. She becomes so frustrated that she shuts herself off from others–"

"Make your point." She snapped.

"Do you have a name?"

"Jamaal."

He leaned in close to her, his voice barely above a soft whisper. "Jamaal… how do you know my brother?" She turned away from him, her trembling lips pressed together, blue eyes burning.

He sat back, giving her a little breathing room. In an instant, she snatched up a scrap of paper and a felt pen from the small side table. She scribbled something down and then crumpled the piece of paper into a ball, shoving it into his palm.

"Get out." She hissed, but there was something else hiding under her tone. If he had not been paying attention, he doubted that he would have caught it. Without another word, he left her to her thoughts. Jamaal only heard the force field hiss back into place.

.

As he drifted away from the turbolift, he uncrumpled the piece of paper she had given him. On it was a simple address scrawled across its surface.

**Station 8, sec. 141, hanger c – 1936 **

_Interesting…_ It was the address for a hanger bay on one of the shuttle stations orbiting Galor IV.

B-4's thoughts were in turmoil as he rounded a corner, the security guards struggling to maintain pace. Who was she? What did she know? Perhaps it was naïve to think that Lore was alone in his former life. Maybe there were some old friends arising from his past to seek revenge. Something about her attitude gave B-4 insight into her reasoning. Could she be trying to _help_ Lore? The detectives who were investigating the breach in the Daystrom Institute's mainframe had been able to discern which files she was accessing. She had attempted to steal everything about Lore's systems and programming. Everything she might need to revive him. He slipped into his quarters, hope seeping into his thoughts. What if she _was_ attempting to repair his brother? If they had similar goals then perhaps she would be willing to help him.

The Enterprise's computer had all of the information that the Daystrom Institute would have, and probably much more considering Data's service. B-4 worked at the computer console in his quarters and pulled up all of the public access files. The restricted files would be a little more difficult. With the skill and precision of a previous Lieutenant Commander aboard the Enterprise, B-4 accessed all of the files which might prove to be necessary and saved them to external data chips. He then pulled up one of the files which had caught his eye while he was skimming through. It contained several pictorial representations of a small mechanical device which was located deep inside the right side of the chest cavity of the android body and had several vital connections to the neural processor which ran the length of his spine. It functioned as some kind a storage collection for emotional memories. He had seen the piece of equipment before when he was first rummaging through Data's personal belongings.

B-4 stepped over to the small drawer and opened it with the feather-light touch of a button. The small piece of equipment still rested there, the edges of its exterior had a blackened residue on them. The sensation of déjà vu stirred inside of him again and he remembered how the device came to be there.

.

_Data gently placed the fragile mechanism in the drawer along with several of Lore's memory engrams. The organic/inorganic interface was one of the most important devices in their bodies; it allowed them physical sentience. He had had it removed after Lore's deactivation to prevent the possibility of Lore ever being reactivated again. This was last of his brother and he thought perhaps he might feel sad… but it was no longer possible for him to feel emotions, even with the emotion chip that was meant for him clutched in his hand._

_._

B-4 cradled the small device gingerly in his palm. Its rustic appearance hinted that it was probably damaged by the phaser blast. In essence, this was his brother's soul. The androids could not function as anything more than lifeless machines without them and if anyone needed proof of their sentience, it was lying here before him. He carefully placed it back in the foam-lined container and put it into his backpack along with his padd and the memory chips containing the information on Lore' s schematics and programming. He then made his way to the transporter room.

B-4 recited the coordinates to the lieutenant on duty and stepped onto the transporter pad. He rematerialized in a darkened hall space. Following nothing but his intuition, he made his way down the narrow corridor. Section 137, Section 139, Section 141. Dipping inside, he approached the small keypad labeled Section 141, Hanger Bay C. Putting two-and-two together, he punched in the 4 digit code, which was scribbled on the slip of paper clutched in his right hand. _1-9-3-6-_

The doors slid open and he stepped through, glancing over his shoulders and waiting for them to close behind him before viewing the hanger's contents. His eyes widened with awe as he was faced with a large cruiser-type ship, its design completely foreign. The vessel sat patiently in the holding bay, as though waiting for someone to take it out into silent space.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – High End Reprieve

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Jamaal found herself walking alongside two armed security officers, with the sounds of several sets of footsteps echoing melodically off the grey marble floors. She overheard the slight undertone of the sentry to her left, recognizing the strange patterns in the Federation language.

"Have Ensign Sotto prepare a transport shuttle."

A sensation of inevitable demise crept over her as she paced, her arms clasped to one another. What would happen to her? And Lore? Ilyn would undoubtedly send an envoy to follow. Lemnan would become involved in not one but two neighboring alliances. And Lore would become subject to Federation law. Her darkening thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sensation of weightlessness which enveloped her and rendered her immobile. The polished corridor faded and the shouts of the guards diminished as she dematerialized into an energy pattern and then rematerialized on the small transport pad aboard her own ship. She turned sharply to the transport control panel to see B-4 peeking anxiously over the top. His face cracked into a devious grin.

"I see you've found my ship." She said with an air of disapproval. "Perhaps you are more intelligent than I initially believed."

"How about 'Hello, B, nice to see you again' or 'Thanks for rescuing me from the inconvenience of a court trial and lifetime-imprisonment.'"

"I thought your name was B-4." She responded, ignoring his rant and tossing the handcuffs she was previously wearing haphazardly on the console panel.

"Most people just call me B, I suppose I've gotten used to it…" She disregarded his mindless chattering and made her way around him into the narrow hall-space, her footsteps giving off a metallic resonance on the bare-titanium floors. He followed her, still somewhat confused at her lack of gratitude.

"So… who _are_ you?" He asked, trying to ease his curiosity. He stepped around her as she sat in the pilot's chair. She ignored his question once again.

"I'm sorry but I need to get out of here soon. If you'd like, I can drop you off on Galor IV but I would like to be underway within the hour." B-4 noted an air of smugness enveloped in her peculiar accent as she ran her hands over the control systems with skilled precision.

"Absolutely not. I want to know who you are and what you are doing with Lore. You know what has happened to him."

She stared at him impassively.

"Why should _you_ care?" The old edge was back in her voice. "Lore has only ever been abandoned by his family, every time he reaches out a hand... but what does it matter to you the business I have I have with him? Why can't-" Her disorganized rant ended abruptly and she reverted back to her previous state, fearing she had said too much.

"Jamaal… My brother is important to me. I want to find him, bring him back, if even possible. He has the right to know… about Data…" B-4's voice trailed off.

"Data?" Her voice hinted at genuine interest. "What about him?"

"Data… was killed in the line duty." He worked to keep his voice as even as possible. "You seem to know a few things about my family, I figured that you would have also known…" Jamaal glanced unseeing at her hands which were frozen in mid-thought above the navigation panel.

"No, I did not know."

"Jamaal… I _am_ coming with you." He said gently.

She hesitated for a moment and relented, punching in the coordinates of her homeworld as the engines hummed to life. Traveling at vortex speed, she could reach her homeworld in a matter of hours. As the view screen lit up in blinding white, she closed her eyes and felt her heart rate slowing. A bubble of laughter escaped her lips and she realized she was nearly successful. But reality hit her hard once again, leaving her cold. Lore… of all, what had he done to himself? She had only had access to open content files on Lore's crimes which could only vaguely describe his actions. Entanglement with a semi-synthetic race call the Borg… It was nightmarish.

The Federation reports were false, indicating that the Soong emotion chip had been incorporated in his brain for over four years. It had been less than thirty hours before his body had completely rejected the programming and began shutting down. Vaguely she remembered reports on his violent behavior when he had been transferred to the Idhaman Science Institute. He had incoherently piloted his vessel into a dense ion storm near the Raan Cluster, almost destroying himself. His systems had been severely scrambled and it had taken nearly a week of work to restore him and reboot all of his systems. She had the feeling it would take much longer to repair in this condition.

Cybernetics was an advanced science in her culture, though recently they had been preoccupied with rebuilding infrastructure and security. She prayed that Ron, one of her closest friends whom had previously known Lore, would be able to help repair him. Rontaerius Amon was one of the most trustworthy friends she had, besides Lore, and for a long while he had been –literally– the leading scientist of cybernetics in Idham.

.

Her world came into the view screen and she marveled at the surreal image. The vast, blue oceans, which occupied ninety percent of her world's surface area, stretched on for what seemed like eternity. Because of the sun's proximity, the tan land mass was mostly a desert. But the sun had been the object of worship for the ancient cultures of her world and she harbored suspicions that, even in modern times, it was still the greatest object of adoration in the heavens.

Calling into the orbiting space station, she was given clearance to dock. Her light-class scout vessel settled smoothly into a docking port. On the station she watched as men crowded her ship and unloaded the shipping containers. Exiting swiftly, she met Rontaerius in the hallway and they walked together while admiring the view from the station. From such a close distance, only a small portion of the planet's horizon was visible through the wide windows of the observation lounge.

"Why is it that every time we meet you have some glaringly difficult task for me?" He smirked tiredly. Before she left he and his team were beginning a new project involving a new water management system for the Veda outpost. Logistically speaking, fresh water was always a matter of stress and concern on her planet.

They sat down of the low-lying chairs. "Thank you for coming to meet me," she was bordering on apology, "I know your time is spread thin."

He grinned wider. "That's never stopped you from bothering me before." The smile slid from his face as he watched her reactions. "Jamaal, why have you called me here?"

She bit down on her lip.

"It's Lore." He looked at her sharply, face icing over with apprehension but after a moment she continued, "I need your help, _he_ needs your help."

"Where is he?"

"I've brought him here. He's in containment."

* * *

[Alternate Thursday – Platonic]

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Idhaman Immigration Control was completely empty. B-4 assumed that Lemnan's disassociation with the Federation and the Dominion lead to a rather isolated culture and that receiving foreigners was a rare occurrence. He found the quiet was soothing, musing for a moment as he glanced at his shoes. They were Data's Starfleet issued boots and they were a perfect fit, already worn in. The black, synthetic leather was dulled down from B-4's usage. He leaned back on the empty row of chairs and gently closed his eyes. Sunlight streamed in through the glass ceilings, playing a rainbow of color behind his eyelids. His thoughts drifted away from him in radiating waves of heat growing in their strangeness and he fell into sleep.

He must have dosed off for a good while because when he checked his chronometer again, he found that over an hour had slipped his notice. A few minutes later Jamaal slid into the seat beside him, pulling out a file of papers as he rubbed his face. "IIC has been slow but incredibly tight since the attacks… You will have to be registered as a resident alien before you can travel freely through the province. Are you still using Data's name?"

"I don't have any Federation records."

"Well we can have new records drawn up for you. I'll stay here with you until that's completed. I expect we'll be finished here in another hour or so and then we can leave."

"Jamaal, explain to me. Immigration is incredibly tight in your culture. But I've noticed a distinct lack of people coming through customs. Generally this facility would be crowded, if it were so difficult to travel through the states."

"My culture has always been somewhat… xenophobic in nature. And that nature has only grown stronger with the invasion of Dominion forces."

"Invasion?"

"Yes, about nine years ago by a splinter of the Dominion empire named the _Shaerdin_. It was shortly after Idham established an off-planet colonies several star systems from here. Thankfully, much of what Lemnan was and is was preserved when Lemnan was evacuated… but the effect it had on society may not be reversed for a long while. Today we are still reintegrating a good portion of Lemnan society back into Dakkar.

"As for immigration, you would not need to be checked if you were traveling from the Idhaman territories. But when Lemnan rejected any proposals of trade with the Dominion Empire, we began receiving enterprises from Shaerda, and from all over Dominion territories as well, wishing to settle our homeworld as aliens. The influx began and we had no choice but to establish immigration control. The events were nothing short of insanity."

B-4 nodded. "How did Lore fall into this?"

Jamaal flashed a grin. "He was one of the earlier entrepreneurs from the Federation. He was discovered at the edge of our system, after destroying his ship in the neighboring star nebula. He was injured on board his vessel and was sent to Idham for bodily repairs. Later he was relocated to Dakkar. He remained for two years, enlisting in a year-long science expedition. From what I've heard of Ilyn and his commanding officers, his service was exemplary and he gained rank fairly quickly."

"How did he come to know _you_?"

She paused for a long while. "Lore was an interesting individual… and I will admit that I am somewhat jealous and greedy when it comes to whom I keep as friends. He lived with me for a good while before he enrolled himself in exploration service. It's strange, though the fleet has not been a militia in centuries, Lore did not strike me as the type who might enlist. But I later discovered he had a passion for exploring. It became clear to me when he would often set out on those long hiking expeditions..."

She eyed him sadly. "B, there is one last thing… I cannot guarantee that Lore will be able to be recovered. And if he is… he may not be the same person he was before."

"I understand. Thank you anyways for this… for everything."

The tan, rocky continent kilometers below the station slowly crept out of view.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 –Through a Mirror Darkly

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Rontaerius Amon took a deep breath, steadying his shaking hands. Several neural activity monitors hummed at the edges of the darkened lab, mingling with the buzz of the bright surgical lamp poised over the pale android's body. He had worked diligently over the course of the past few weeks repairing the android's critical systems first and then working to back to subsystems. The body responded to light and other stimuli but his higher functions were still inactive. Only recently had he begun repairing the cranial cavity. Before Rontaerius had even begun to work with the systems, he had studied the organic/inorganic interface B-4 had presented to him. He feared that the damaged interface could permanently disrupt the android's systems and had fabricated a new one. Fortunately, the neural net was still laid in and undamaged, but the when he tried to bring the matrix online, fluxuation in the flow of positrons forced him to deactivate the procedure.

Once again, he found himself brooding over failure, washing his hands in warm water, lights dimmed in the lab. He only vaguely remembered the android… Lore was his name. The damage to Lore's systems was extensive. Rontaerius marveled at how any family could have been so brutal in this kind of destruction. He had only known Lore for a short period of time but had never realized that his relationship with his family was so devastating. When Jamaal had proposed this assigned to him, she said to him, _"Lore is sentient organism… he is not simply a machine. I want you to treat this less as though you were repairing a malfunctioning piece of technology and focus more on the fact that you are operating on a living being." _The speech had been so motivating at the time... But now, after multiple failed attempts, he found his hope in the situation dissipating.

Rontaerius sat down in his chair, running his hands over the soft skin on his scalp. His dark eyes scanned his office, falling once again upon the interface. He picked it up running his fingers over the elegant device. He knew the issue was with the interface… the one he designed could not conform to the specified range of positron flow. They were incompatible but he was terrified of the results which might occur if the original were restored.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

For a moment he considered his options. Unconsciously, he drummed his fingers on the cool desk. To restore the original interface could have serious physiological ramifications… but if it were not restored Lore's chances of ever being reactived were slim to none. His resolve building, he picked up the original device and entered his lab. Lore's body lay stark naked under a frosted glass panel, which slid back with a touch. Rontaerius gently probed the edge of the sub-dermal paneling underneath the bioplast covering his chest cavity. It came loose, pulling back just a few centimeters to grant him enough space to work. He gently removed his inadequate replica and replaced it with the original. This was his final option. He resealed the chest cavity and taking a deep breath, he brought the matrix back online.

* * *

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Lore awoke with a start, flinching slightly. Seconds passed by as consciousness sunk in. Rontaerius was taken aback by his sudden reanimation and hesitated to act.

"S-security–" He began but was cut off as a hand grasped around his throat. Lore's eyes, dimly illuminated under blue lights, were devoid of emotion. He snatched a phase scalpel from the table in his right hand, holding it menacingly against the doctor's collar.

Rontaerius struggled, slipping through Lore's grip and launched himself over the operating table, scattering metal equipment across the floor with a crash.

"_Lore!_ Lore… do you remember who I am?" He held his hands out, palms up.

"_Where am I?_"Lore hissed, still holding the scalpel threateningly.

"Look around you!"

Lore's nostrils flared. The language he used was familiar… His eyes flicked around the room and he froze, recognition building strength. Thousands of questions raced through his mind. This was impossible and here he was.

"The Idhaman Research Facility…" He began slowly, suspiciously.

"Yes…"

"Rontaerius Amon, I do remember you." Lore reactivated his internal chronometer. _Eight years…._ "How? How much has happened?"

"I don't think I could adequately explain..." Rontaerius stood upright, straightening his shirt and coat.

Lore loosened his vice grip on the scalpel, placing it in Rontaerius's outstretched hand.

"I would very much like to go home." Lore whispered.

"Come with me, we'll find you some cloths."

* * *

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Jamaal paced back and forth between the closed door and B-4. He watched her, his own fingers tangling themselves and detangling themselves over and over out of nervousness. He had never in his life felt such apprehension.

Rontaerius strode briskly down the hall behind them, hastily opening the door with his key fob. B-4 stood, following them. They stood behind the glass view panel, watching. Lore had made a perch of the operating table, curled over his knees, his bare feet exposed on the cold table. Jamaal gave one last nervous glace at the cyberneticist and she entered the room. Lore's head snapped up and he rose from the table.

He looked her up and down, afraid to touch her. Her eyes had an almost sunken appearance. She looked pale and unhealthy, her hair greasy and limp. Had she always been so slight and fragile? He knew that in reality she was far more durable. He met her gaze and peered into her brazen blue eyes.

"Lore." she repeated. Apparently he had not heard her the first time. "What do you remember?"

The silence spiraled between the two of them and it was a few moments before he could respond.

"Everything." He breathed, his voice haggard and dry.

She bit her lip until it was numb.

"They've cleared you to leave the facility, but you'll be placed under psychological evaluation." Rontaerius informed the two of them.

Lore seemed not to hear him. His fingers grazed the hem of her blouse, much in the way a young child might touch their mother, all the while his wide-eyed expression of shock never once slipped off of his face. All his memories raced through his mind at high speed. He caught glimpses of his father, the blue storm front of the Raan star nebula, Data's expressionless mask, a fleeting sun, the expressions of anger uniform across the Borg's faces. He choked on his own guilt. Unaware of the tightening pain, he unconsciously massaged his chest with the hilt of his arm.

"We can leave if you would like, but first there is something we need to discuss." She turned and the door clicked open behind her. Lore took a step to the side in order to get a better view.

"Data?" he asked in disbelief, his voice a low and dangerous tone. He stumbled forward a step."No…," Lore spoke to himself, answering his own question.

The strangest sensation washed over him as something registered in Lore's mind. He peered into this android's eyes and the feeling of familiarity was overwhelming... It was as though he were looking through a dirty, darkened mirror. The reflection stirred with his movements, but it appeared alien – unrecognizable. His brother stared back at him through the glass.

_Who are you?_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

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The aroma of ground arhuba peppers lifted the spirit of the morning as Jamaal showed B-4 how to prepare a native breakfast dish, dicing up vegetables on a flat pan over an open-flame stove and cracking a rather large egg over the top of them. Lore noted that it was the same dish Jamaal had prepared for him when she first allowed him to stay with her. Neither of them heard his approach over the sizzling pan. He crept in, watching them for a minute or two before B-4 finally turned and noticed.

"Good morning." He said very quietly, nervously. Lore did respond, gazing at him with an even, impassive stare. Jamaal glanced nervously between the two of them.

"I'm going to grab something else from the greenhouse…" She attempted a stealthy exit, giving Lore a long look before she slipped out.

Lore silently watched him for a length but B-4 held his ground, having spoken first.

"You said your name is B-4?" Lore asked, bristling around him, rummaging in the cabinet for a small mug.

He nodded and there was another long pause. "There have been whispers… echoes in Dr. Soong's work of prototypes. But I was told these earlier androids were lost..."

"Lost…" B-4 shrugged, "but found."

Lore continued watching him in suspicion, trying to gauge his reactions to his questions while taking a seat at the island, sipping his hot beverage. "May I ask… What brought you here?"

"I thought that was obvious." B-4 swallowed nervously. "I–I'm not really sure… I wanted to know who you are."

"You didn't read the Federation reports about me?"

"I did." The corner of Lore's mouth twitched. "Along with firsthand accounts from a few people who… knew you."

"And yet you're here."

B-4 took a deep breath and spoke quickly. "Even if you had turned out to be everything your records say you are, I still would have needed to know... for myself… who you are."

"What were you expecting?"

"I was expecting…. well, I will admit I would not have been surprised if you _had_ turned out to be much the person you're said to be."

"You didn't answer my question." Lore pointed out.

"…Honestly, I had hoped there was more to you than just what your criminal records showed." There was a long silence.

"That was very brave… and very _stupid_ of you." He hissed with ample venom, hoping to intimidate him.

B-4 took it in his stride. He had nothing else to expect from this man. "Still, I am fortunate to be here."

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* * *

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Several years ago, Lore had sat in the very same spot where he sat now, overlooking the sprawl of the city from afar. The ridge led up to a series of steps, rising higher and higher until they reached the looming summit of the plateau. Lore dangled his feet over the edge of the step, leaning back against the ninety-degree angle of the rock face. For reasons unknown to him, Lore had always loved heights and subconsciously sought them out for ease of mind. These heights offered a sense of detachment where he could allow himself to think in a comfortable atmosphere. He plucked at a few sparse blades of red grass peeking through the cracks of the ground. The blue sky was growing deeper as pink rays of light began to intermix in the hues. A gust of wind brushed his face and he was reminded of how truly fortunate he was to be alive, and to be conscious of that fact. He noted from personal experience that his situation, no matter how dire, could always –_always–_ grow much worse.

None of these thoughts alleviated his guilt. He could still recall every single personal log of the Starfleet officers aboard the Ohniaka III station. In fact, he remembered one young ensign in particular: Alyna Kennedy. Her dark brown hair brushing haphazardly over her large, dark eyes as she made her log entries. She mentioned frequently in her logs that she loved to pilot shuttlecrafts–indeed her enthusiasm had put her in line for a promotion. Lore could still hear the unadulterated passion in her voice as she described her dreams of the atmosphere… He turned his head upward and marveled at the thin streaks of white which never threatened a drop of rain. Lore had been completely unprepared for the guilt which would follow. He gritted his teeth, and pressed his palm to the invisible wound in his chest, trying to soothe the tightening of his synthetic muscles.

He also remembered Data. The complete manipulation of his family member. Lore had only sought his brother's company. But Lore's warped subconscious reasoning had twisted the situation out of proportion. Nothing Lore would ever say or do could ever undo what he had done. He could only hope that stitch the pieces of his life's tapestry back together. And how strange a timing the universe had chosen to introduce a person like B-4 into his life. His counterpart did not judge and was completely accepting. Where had this person been for his entire life? What was Lore to do now? Did he _deserve_ the sympathy of his brother?

Lore swallowed hard. He leaned his head back against the rock, and his arm tightened around his chest. He heard the crunch of approaching footsteps and the pebbles falling down the rock face.

His eyes widened in genuine surprise as found B-4 grinning sheepishly and climbing the rise. The sight was so amusing he actually barked out a short chuckle, his shoulders shaking with the genuine laughter. He grabbed B-4 under the shoulder, and hoisted him up the last part of the ridge.

"How did you find me?"

"I can see you from down there." B-4 gestured to the streets below. Lore grunted. He had not been aware that his presence on the rise had been so disruptive. For a while they sat in silence before Lore's curiosity got the best of him.

"So, tell me. Where are you from, brother?" B-4 lifted his gaze from the haggard ground where they were perched.

"Hm? Well, I actually don't remember. My first real memories were aboard the Enterprise... however I searched through Dr. Soong's journals and found that he had disposed of his earlier prototypes long before relocating to Omicron Theta."

"So you don't remember our father?" B-4 only shook his head and Lore felt another pang of guilt.

"Where did they find you?"

"They found me on a planet bordering the Neutral Zone… they brought me aboard, reassembled me." B-4 treaded carefully over the subject, fearing that he may reveal too much. He said nothing of Data.

Lore scoffed at his last words. "I'm surprised he did as much, Data seemed to think he went so wrong in reactivating me." He sighed, leaning against his arms splayed out behind him. Again, B-4 said nothing of Data.

"What about you, Lore? How did you come to find a home here?"

Lore expression was placid, masking some hidden emotion.

"It was an accident really. I was working a job –I used to find employment in questionable places– and I discovered this," He nodded towards the city.

"Of course, they –being this particular culture– weren't happy to have me at first. They don't usually take kindly to outsiders, and considering our unique physical attributes it strongly affected my professional relations later… But the longer I stayed the more I fell in love with the culture here. I didn't think it was possible for a people to have such strong ties with each other. The few people I did come to know are some of the most loyal I have ever known. I mean, in spite of everything that happened here, Jamaal came searching for me even after _eight years_… " There was a pause.

"What happened?" B-4 asked quietly.

"We were attacked. At first it was a small envoy, their technology was not nearly as advanced. But they returned two years later with massive forces. Our people were forced to scatter… I was under a commanding officer's orders to return to the Federation in a diplomatic mission. I never made it that far." Lore's head dipped.

"Under orders? I thought the fleet wasn't a militia." B-4's asked, somewhat confused.

"It wasn't… at least not until the siege began."

"The situation seems to be under control now."

Lore nodded. "They've expanded their exploration efforts to several surrounding star systems. The new Idhaman capitol is on a planet several sectors from here and they have several scientific research colonies… I would say that is serious advancement for such a xenophobic race. However, the proximity of this planet to Dominion territory still leaves Lemnan vulnerable to attacks. The Dominion has set up several military outposts dangerously close to the Lemnan system. They have yet to relinquish claim over this system. The Imperial College has considered opening negotiations with the Federation…"

"That will be interesting."

"If it even escalates that far. Much of the College is still against tainting culture with such open diplomatic relations. Jamaal is among them."

"What will you do now?"

Lore sighed and paused for a long while. "I don't know... Many of those who suffered trauma from the attacks were placed under military suspension after a series of rouge, suicidal officers began reaping havoc in the force… I doubt I can return to the short life I lived before. For now… I was hoping that you and I could figure it out, what it is we're doing here…"

Silence passed between them. "And what about you, B-4? What will you do?"

B-4 shook his head, shrugging. "I'm not certain. I've only just been introduced to all of this." he gestured to the landscape.

Lore's eyes surveyed him gently. He could plainly see his brother. B-4 was as innocent and pure as life could come. "I remember how overwhelming it was when I was first created. To be thrust from nothingness into this life…" _I just hope you will do something better with yours._

The two continued to sit alone, unspeaking. The bronze domes, across the chasm of city life, gleamed under the fleeting golden sunlight.

.

* * *

.

Author's Note:

The culture of Dakkar was strongly influenced on my child's fantasy of Istanbul. The key difference being that Dakkar is mostly landlocked and Istanbul is… well, _not_.

Also, you may find music tags nested with brackets [ ]. I put these notes at the beginning of scenes which are affected by them. They are not in every chapter but some chapters have more than one. The purpose of these tags is really for myself so that when I write a scene, if the tone or mood of the scene is affected by a piece of music, then I can come back to it and remember. It kind of serves as tone framework.

Thank you to the readers who leave such wonderful comments. You may not be aware of this but your comments really make it worthwhile to strive over the work, to try and make it better each time I read through it. Thank you.

-Lense


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter 9 _

_[Un Simple Histoire – Thievery Corporation]_

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.

Lore rolled over again and again on the soft downy mattress, unable to find any rest. He had found it increasingly difficult to sleep in the months since he had returned home. He had far too much time on his hands, being wide awake for all of those hours. The nights were over fifteen hours long and the thought was distressing. Once, he had relished in it. He would allow himself to sleep for over eight hours and wake up with plenty of time to prepare for the morning. Now, Lore turned over to gaze at the hated analog clock whose ivory face could be seen, even in the darkness. Its black hands read that it was nearly four in the morning. Its ticking matched the pulse of his artificial circulatory system.

_Backwards and forwards, the fluid nature of time weaves the great tapestry of our lives, including not only our flesh but the complex events which affect us as they transpire around us._

Philosophy, if one chose to believe in it. He sat up once again, unable to bear the tight, constriction in his chest cavity. He ran his fingers through disheveled hair. The passage of time seemed slow to him through an android's perception but tonight it seemed to creep by at an even slower pace. The darkness pressed in on him, quiet and stifling. His stomach churned and he could not breathe. He threw the sheets from the bed and launched himself into the bathroom. The lights flicked on and his panic vanished. It was not like him to fear the dark, but quite recently he had developed something of mild separation anxiety. There were several distinct differences in his programming and Data's. Lore remembered that Data never slept. He was programmed to function without the nuisances of emotions, whereas several of Lore's subsystems were designed to accommodate them. Lore's emotions would eventually begin to take a toll on his processing speed and he became edgy and distracted. So he would sleep and his mind was given a dreamless respite. Theoretically, Lore did not _need_ rest but without it was very possible to be driven to the edge of what was left of his sanity. The longest amount of time he had spent without sleep was a year and half, living among the Borg. The effects of that one long, endless day were still omnipresent in his thoughts. He flipped the water faucet, splashing his face with cool water. He then pulled a shirt over his head and paced down the dark hallway. The planet Lemnan had no moons and was black every night, save for a blanket of stars.

In the living room, he heard the gentle breathing of his brother as he slept on the couch. Lore back away slowly, unwilling to disturb him. He slipped out the back door and into the night and noted the pleasantly cool winds brushing through the valley. Jamaal had left with another diplomatic envoy to the Shaerda homeworld. She would be away for nearly four weeks. He had not particularly minded her absence. Jamaal had grown into a different person over the years. She had fallen to a lower rank, and now took orders instead of giving them. Additionally, she had been a prisoner in the Shaerda labor camps for six years. She had allowed Lore to read through a few pages of her journals. The challenges she had faced, the abuses and injustices. It was enough to alter any sane human. But reading her account of the events did not strengthen their relationship but instead it had weakened it. Lore found the events described in between the pages to be disturbing in that they were a reminder of the injustices inflicted on the Borg as well as the officers on starbase.

_"Working men were separated from women. The children and elderly are kept together and expected to care for one another. Families are torn apart, lovers separated, mothers and their children strewn apart. Only two months ago, I watched as my close friend was executed by a few blood-driven guards. The image of his blank, depthless eyes still pervades my dreams. I fear that I have lived to see hell played out before my own eyes."_

And, now, he could still see. Those blank staring eyes. Dark, and depthless. The eyes of these people, much like the eyes of young ensign Alayna Kennedy.

Lore, admittedly, was not the same person he had been either. When he had first come to Lemnan, Lore had been coping with the death of his father. He was coping with rejection from his brother. But he had, at least, been coping. Now, Lore could not sleep, he hardly ever spoke and he could barely stand to look at B-4 without experiencing an overwhelming sensation of guilt.

Lore paused in the center of the streets and caught himself peering up at the black ridge at the edge of the city. He vaguely noted that his skin was chilled in the crisp morning air.

Lore's first psychological evaluation was scheduled for later that morning. He had allowed himself to hope that some of his unanswered questions might be solved. Were his actions the result of malfunctioning programming as his father had believed? Or was it _really_ possible for an android to develop psychological disorders?

The hours slipped away and the sky grew from black, to a deep blue and then into a rosy pink. Lore's breathing slowed and his pacing stopped as he watched the sky change. When the sun finally peeked up over the ridge, he felt the rising warmth in the air and the rest of his discomfort was driven away. The sun burned a hole in his diseased heart and he could breathe easily again.

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* * *

.

"Good morning, Lore. It's a pleasure to meet you." Lore ground his teeth and tried plastering a small smile onto his face as he took a seat not too far and not too close to the counselor. Concerning his situation, he had it quite well _–_compared to some of the others who had returned from the damage of the Raan nebula battles. He mused that these counseling sessions should not last more than a few weeks if he played them right.

The office where they were seated was small, gray and sterile. Wasn't it the norm for the decor within a counselor's office to be overly lavish and distracting? Lore had been pleasantly surprised.

"So. How long had you been in the service before the events nine years ago?" His counselor had a short grey beard, and dark eyes. He was not particularly comforting, but he was not intimidating either. And his questions were straight-forward which made them easy to answer.

"I was in the service for just over a year."

"Who was responsible for those events?"

"Both Lemnan and the Shaerda are at fault." Lore spouted, predicting the responses he might want to hear. His councilor nodded in agreement.

"And you were given a special assignment? During these events?" Lore was amused by his choice of words. '_Events_' was a gentle way of putting it.

"I was. Because of my previous... residency."

"You were born within the Federation."

Lore pursed his lips. "That's correct... in a manner of speaking." he added in a quiet murmur.

"What were your opinions on the nature of the mission?"

Lore paused for a while. "Ilyn had Lemnan's best interested at heart and so did Jamaal at the time. I was somewhat ambivalent about being given the assignment."

"Do you believe that these doubts may have impacted your ability to complete the mission?"

Lore stared at him incredulously. "No, I think it had more to do with the fact that I was too preoccupied with commanding a fleet of synthetic humanoids and murdering innocent people."

The counselor's eyes flicked up for a moment. He made a note on his padd. "Eventually you will stand trial for those events but we haven't gotten that far yet. Those events happened in Federation territory so the Federation must be accounted for in the proceedings but you will stand trial by Lemnan laws."

Lore was taken aback. This was the first he had heard of this. "How long do you think that might take?"

"Lemnan must first open a dialogue with the Federation, which could be some time. Also, I will need to continue to evaluate your mental state."

Lore nodded, still somewhat surprised. Why was he surprised? He should not have expected anything else. How would he plead? _Was_ he guilty? Was he _insane_? As long as he held these sessions with the counselor, he could stay in the clear. And he might even find some answers. But the more he thought about it the less convinced he was that this man, with his neutral monotone questions, had any answers to the tangled mess that was his mind. Lore stared over his shoulder, out of the window. The sky was as blue as ever. It could take years to unravel a twisted mind_–_

"Lore?"

Lore snapped back to the counselor.

"I'm sorry?"

"The following questions you may find to be of a more personal nature. If you feel you cannot answer them now, you are not obliged to."

Lore nodded.

"What is the nature of your relationship with Subcommander Jamaal?"

"Personal." Lore retorted. The councilor made another mark on his padd. Lore began drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. The conversation had turned uncomfortable without his noticing.

"And of your brother. How are you two getting along?"

"Fine actually. He's... he's a comfort to have around."

"Now this relationship you have with him is very different from the ones you had with other members of your family?"

"Yes."

"Your file recalls that a Lt. Commander Data was the one who deactivated you."

"That is... correct." Lore was now carving a small indent in the arm of the wooden chair with his nail.

"Would you care to describe your relationship with him?"

"No." He made another note.

"Very well. That is everything for today. I have you scheduled for another appointment, the same time and day next month."

Lore nodded to the counselor, rising swiftly from the chair. He closed the door behind him as gently as he could, all the while trying not to snap the handle clean off of its face.

.

* * *

.

Lore strode in through the front door, the familiar scent of arhuba wafting through the living area. B-4 sat at the counter, sipping from a blue cup and still reading that same book of ancient earth philosophies, borrowed from the Enterprise's traditional library.

"How did it go?" he asked without looking up.

"It went well enough. He's scheduled another appointment for me though."

"Okay..." B-4 watched him curiously. "Do you have any idea how long you'll have to meet with him?"

Lore shook his head ruefully. "How is that book coming along?" He glanced at the book with contempt.

"It's great so far. These pre-enlightenment scientists have some pretty... interesting theories."

"Yeah? Like turning iron to gold using magic?" Lore asked innocently, trying desperately to keep his face straight.

"Well, _magic_, or in this case _alchemy_, is just science we don't understand yet." B-4 retorted with a hint of pride under his brother's criticism.

"That's an earth saying." Lore replied.

"Yeah. It is." B-4 glanced down at the worn blue cover fondly. The name _Cornelius Agrippa_ adorned the front in English lettering. Lore shook his head and giving him a 'whatever suits you' grin.

"I thought we might go into the city today. I would like to show you a few things, so get dressed."

.

In the late afternoon, sunlight poured in through the tall windows and painted the pillars with a deep golden glean. The intricate lacing of arabesque calligraphy, all of it hand painted over twelve centuries in the past, covered the concave ceilings creating a colorful, swirling mosaic of designs. The bright blue marble floors also had elaborate patterns etched into them as well; the two androids' footsteps echoed off of the art along the hall.

"The Dak-ra Hall is a place of religious worship. They are host to wandering followers on sabbatical. Thousands gather every year from Dakkar, Idhaman and the northern colonies. These halls also serve as an educational institute. Admissions are selective, based upon one's religious background. Additionally, they have a vast collection of historical literature. All of the hard copies of material up until four centuries ago are also kept within their library. The rest of the collection is backed up in other archives to prevent damage or destruction."

B-4 was at a loss for words, his mouth hanging slightly agape Lore turned to his brother standing several feet away, his face upturned and taking in the scene. Lore continued, wondering if he was even listening.

"It is also host the offices high council. Jim and Priestess Ilyn's offices are in the Depart of International Security, the adjacent building." Lore gestured out one of the unglassed windows. The smaller white dome just barely peeked up over the height of the window's vantage.

"I have never seen anything like this." B-4 spoke, curiosity still mingling in his tone. "But it is not completely new to me. These historic places always hold some... familiarity. Even if I cannot recall them from memory."

Lore swallowed. B-4 was just on the edge of a thought that always lingered in the back of his mind when he roamed these beautiful, empty halls.

They climbed down the anterior steps out to the courtyard, their crisp black shadows following them into the afternoon.

.

.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 11

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Jamaal gazed intently at the game of _hankura_ splayed out before her. Three boards had circles of indents carved into the wood to hold the places of the red and white stones used as playing pieces. The object of the game is for a player to have the highest ratio of their colored stone on the three boards. This is accomplished by creating circles of stones, starting from the center of each board and working your way out. Within the circumference of each circle of stones is a player's territory, or in the end game, their total points. Jamaal had nearly completed a large circle on the outer rim while she began a new, smaller ring on the board to her right. On one side of the smaller center circle, Naghera Ilyn's white stones had begun to invade her circle of red stones.

Naghera smirked triumphantly as she successfully replaced another cluster of Jamaal's red stones with her white. For a moment, Naghera looked up expectantly at Jamaal as though daring her to reverse the progress she had made with that single maneuver. Jamaal sullenly picked out a move she had been saving for worse tides.

It was strange the way events had taken a turn upon her being reunited with her homeworld. She had returned to find all systems of order upturned into chaos and the society where she had once flourished was now tainted with cultural distinctions from outside their safe, comfortable boundaries.

She tapped her finger impatiently along the desk, willing Ilyn to make a mistake in her game. Tonight, Jamaal was losing and biting back the sour bile that came with it. Frequently the two met for this little sport of strategy, more recently at Ilyn's urging than her own. But tonight Naghera had not invited her over simply for a game of hankura.

Recently Ilyn and several other members of the council were growing suspicious of her activities. In fact, it was very possible that Naghera was informed of Bajaar's gathering the previous week. Jamaal had hoped the priestess would not make a public announcement of her interrogation so she had consented to meet her for a private confrontation.

"I wished to speak with you before you went on leave." Jamaal raised her eyes and braced herself for the coming subtleties and slights of an investigation.

"I was curious… where were you heading? For this… expedition?" The query was more than just disinterested conversation.

"You wish to know where I will be hiking?" Jamaal asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes."

"Through the southern mountains pass. Where I always go. I may attempt to reach the Dak Ruins this time…" Jamaal made another move, seizing a small group of white stones on the left hand board.

Naghera nodded. "I would be weary if I were you. I have heard reports of a faction keeping small underground camps nested the south, near those ruins. There is a risk that these splinter groups may become hostile. Especially towards members of the council …"

Jamaal shook her head, giving a small, condescending smile.

"Jamaal, you _know_ we cannot risk any rebel attempts to sabotage our relations with the Shaerdi."

"The outsiders." she supplied with venom. Jamaal recognized Naghera's reprimand on her attempt to debase the point and decided to drop the subject. "I understand."

With a few final moves, Ilyn captured the largest red circle in the center board and the game was finished. Naghera leaned back with a small smile on her face, relishing the sensation of her victory.

"I would hate to be discourteous but I have another appointment with the minister of foreign affairs." She said smugly, politely as she could inviting Jamaal to leave at her own discretion.

"Have a pleasant evening, Priestess." Jamaal replied evenly.

"One more thing… keep an eye out for yourself while you're out there." Jamaal's chest tightened. Though the two were always at odds with each other, it was obvious she still respected their friendship. Naghera Ilyn could have had her stripped from her title and practically sentenced into exile. But their years of friendship had ties stronger than diplomacy.

"I will." Within the next minute, Jamaal had finished her glass and slipped out the door into the warm evening.

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* * *

.

Jamaal crept down the alleyway of peculiar houses until she reached her own home, with its small garden and narrow path slightly more unkempt than those surrounding it. She pushed open the heavy wooden door to her home and found all the lights inside extinguished.

"Lore?" She called out, but was greeted with silence.

She had left for the diplomatic mission nearly a week ago and had remained out of contact with Lore. She knew B-4 had returned to that same Federation starship just after her departure. Had Lore gone with him perhaps? She doubted it but made a mental note to send B-4 an inquiry.

Her communicator buzzed. She pulled up an unrecognizable frequency.

"Are you preparing, Jim?"

"Checking up on me is not necessary." Jamaal sighed, somewhat relieved that Naghera had not decided to contact her again.

"Did you meet with Ilyn this evening?"

Jamaal ground her teeth.

"So you're spying on _internal_ affairs now? This must be a new low."

"I believed she would suspect deception."

"She can only suspect," Jamaal rolled her neck, massaging her should with her free hand. "But she knows nothing."

.

* * *

.

Files flicked across the screen as Picard read through the upcoming assignments and sipped absentmindedly at a glass of lukewarm tea. The Enterprise would be diverting to the Federation-K'Vin embassy on Kirlos II to settle of few trading disputes between colonies. However, this assignment was the least pressing of the lot and could wait until after the Enterprise had undergone a few routine maintenance procedures at starbase. The door to his ready room chirruped.

"Come." Picard grinned a small, boyish smile as a very familiar face peeked around the corner.

"Captain."

"B-4," he stood, extending his hand in welcome. "It's a pleasure to have you back onboard."

"It is good to be here, sir… I'm glad to see not too much has changed."

"I've heard you've come a pretty long way to meet us. The _Gamma_ Quadrant?" He marveled.

"That's correct, sir." B-4 grinned sheepishly.

"Well it sounds as though you have something of a story to tell."

"It's an interesting one to say the least."

"Well. If it's any more interesting than these reports then I should be glad to hear it. Can I offer you anything? Tea?"

"Please." B-4 took the hot teacup from the dispenser and found a seat.

"It's… uh… difficult to begin. The suspect in Daystrom security breach. You must know that I was involved in her escape. But she's not at fault here, Captain. Her world and the laws are more in line of fault. I must say though, I've became somewhat enraptured,"

"With her?" Picard raised his eyebrows.

B-4 chuckled briefly at his assumption. "No… no, she's is a dear friend. I meant with my life there. It's a whole world. With a wholly different culture. I can't even begin…"

Picard held up a hand and nodded sympathetically. "I believe I understand. Many of us, especially among Starfleet, have developed… severe cases of wanderlust. It appears as though you are not immune to that facet of human nature. Your brother was not either."

B-4 paused considering this for a long moment and then stood. "Neither of them were, sir." Picard's eyebrows knitted together so slightly for a moment. "If you will excuse me Captain, I am going to go find Geordi."

"I… I believe he's down in engineering." he supplied, distractedly.

"Thank you." B-4 ducked out of the ready room, still mulling over the captain's words.

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* * *

.

The turbolift doors opened and the familiar, clean scent of engineering permeated over him. It had a distinctly chemical smell which B-4 recognized as a common mechanical cleaner used on many of the systems in engineering. He waltzed around the console table nested in the center of the room.

"Geordi!" B-4 called up the shaft over the sound of the pulsing warp engines and a haphazard clanging. He heard a short tuft of laughter echo down in response. Geordi LaForge peeked over the railing, his blue eyes grinning.

"Come on up! I've just been recalibrating the deuterium control conduit. An area has just begun to defocus and staff is pretty low this morning. Here hold this beam right there for a second."

B-4 grinned. It was good to be back on the Enterprise for a while and he truly had missed the engineer's conversations.

"So you dropped off the face of the Galaxy for a while because…? You needed time to _think_?" Geordi shook his head, still laughing lightly at his friend. "You had us all worried for a good while."

"Well, you know it wasn't just for my sake that I left…" B-4 said seriously. "I don't believe I was the only one that needed time." They both knew he was referring to the loss of Data.

B-4 changed the subject. "Do you remember the last conversation we had before I left?"

"You reminded me of your plan to rendezvous with the Enterprise." Geordi's blue eyes peered into his own.

"No, not then. It was always my intention to return at some point and I did… but I'm talking about _before_ then. We had a conversation about Lore. You… you told me you didn't want me digging. And I lied. I said I wouldn't." Geordi stared at him intensely, a ridge forming in the middle of his usually smooth brow.

"When you found me at the Daystrom Institute, things were looking… bleak."

"Bleak?"

"Yes." B-4 uncomfortably shifted his weight, still vaguely clasping the tools in his hands. "I was searching for Lore."

A long pause spiraled between them as Geordi absorbed this information and tried to organize his questions.

"I thought you were just searching for information? Looking up on your past?" Geordi asked confused, his suspicions growing.

"No." B-4 finished lamely. "After I found Jamaal, you remember Jamaal," Geordi nodded. She had been mentioned in several of his letters. "Well… she knew Lore. She was attempting to return him to her homeworld. To be reactivated."

"The two of you… _reactivated_ him?"

"…Yes."

Geordi ran his hand over his mouth, thinking frantically. "B. What would inspire you to do something like that? Don't you… understand how dangerous he is? He- he…" Geordi stopped and worked to calm himself, lowering his voice to a hoarse whisper.. "The man nearly had me and Captain Picard killed. Not to mention the deaths he is responsible for on those outposts."

"I know."

"Why, B?"

"I cannot change the fact that he is my brother, Geordi. Besides, Lore is not everything he may have appeared to be." B-4 tried to reason with him in the same logical tone Data would use at times.

"Where is he now?" Geordi sketchily glanced out of the observation windows, as though he expected a massive, predatory ship to decloak out of nowhere.

"You know I can't tell you that... I couldn't even be sure _myself_. He's never in the same place from one day to the next…." B-4 paused again, trying to think of a way to break the horrible silence.

Geordi shook his head disbelievingly. "Does the captain know about this?"

"Hm… not in so many words. I suppose I will need to inform him sooner or later."

"Yeah, you think?"

B-4 watched the facial expression blossoming across Geordi face as he continued to repair the conduit. "You're upset." It was not a question.

"Maybe… just a little." Geordi paused, his nostril flared. "No, actually, I'm more than upset, B."

"I _am_ sorry you feel that way." B-4 gauged his friend's reactions. "But justice is not reserved for the innocent.".

.

* * *

[Don't Hate Me - Porcupine Tree]

.

The blinking navigation panel indicated that Lore was located in a remote sector of Romulan Territory. With a new course plotted in, he disengaged his engines and switched over to warp speed. Though vortex transport was faster and more efficient than warp, it also had much higher impedance when trekking through tight-knit regions like the neutral zone. And it was not his intention to be noticed by Romulan scouts.

He began a long range scan of the area and found several outposts along with a few transport ships. Lore shielded his vessel and set it on course for the nearest Romulan starbase. From several light years' distance, he used the transport vessel's clearance codes along with a forged course plan to request information on the Bassen Rift. The station complied, relaying copies of the files directly into his computer. Most of them were encrypted, which proved to be a simple obstacle to overcome. Lore frantically began scanning through them but he found that they contained little of the information which he needed. The battle that took place there appeared to be nothing more than a small altercation, containing no real events of importance. Though one file in particular did catch his eye… a reference to their transport logs. It was a ship's log from the first officer specifically indicating that no one had beamed to or from the Valdour for the duration of the battle. It was peculiar that the high-ranking officer found such an insignificant detail important enough to mention in the logs. Lore eyebrows knitted together, puzzled.

Dissatisfied, he navigated his vessel away from the starbase and lay in new coordinates for unmanned communications outpost which lay further within Romulan territory. For thirteen hours at maximum warp, Lore had his thoughts to himself. It bothered him that the files were so incomplete. It was as though all of them had been searched and anything of any importance had selectively been picked out. Frustrated, Lore leaned back in his chair staring into the stars streaking past. Data was allowed this sight everyday with his career in Starfleet. Data was gone and yet Lore had continued to search.

B-4 had supplied a complete set of Federation records about the incident. Data had received some of Starfleet's most distinguished honors. But what did that matter if one was no longer alive to receive them? He bit down on his lip in guilt. Even after his attempts to twist his brother into something evil, Data had remained that same good person underneath. Pride swelled in his chest but was soured by his loss. What was Lore in a world without Data? Data gave his life for what he believed in and in turn he may have accomplished what it truly means to be human. Rubbing his temples, he struggled to pull his thoughts far away from those dark corners of his mind.

.

.

On the surface of the barren ice planet, Lore struggled against the howling winds which tore at his frame. He was scarcely dressed for the ferocious methane blizzard that was streaking through the region. The storm blew ribbons of sleet that were over a kilometer long, painting the sky a steely grey in the darkness of the distant sun. He could feel the drag on his body as his systems used an excessive amount of energy to keep him within a functional temperature range. Again he suppressed an involuntarily shudder in the subzero temperatures as he wrapped the loose black nylon shirt a little tighter around his himself as the boreal winds whipped ruthlessly at his slender build. From behind his mask, he gazed up at the communications station which served as a buffer between the few Romulan military outposts in the sector. The large dish sat atop the steel-reinforced warehouse as an icon, receiving transmissions to and from Romulus.

The entrance was not secure but as he stepped inside, he had to struggle to close the door behind him against the vicious winds. It slammed shut, the sound echoing through the spacious area. The station operated on automatic control and was completely devoid of occupation. Lore sighed slightly after removing his face mask and paused for a moment, listening to the symphony of humming computers mixed with the diminished shrieks of the wind outside.

As the computers worked to relay its transmissions, Lore began setting his own information systems. The station had an uplink with the High Council's data banks and if he was able to penetrate their security, then he knew he could the information he was searching for would be contained.

Lore found it just a little bit suspicious that Starfleet's investigation was unable to find _any_ evidence of Data's presence about the Scimitar after its destruction. There were no remnants of a body, no positronic signature among the debris –the positronic signature being the most distinctive piece of evidence that they would have obtained.

Laying out his own equipment next to the computer stations, he shut down the uplink with the Romulan core. Once the link was down, he hastily began overwriting all the security-locked files with his own host files. He estimated that he had less than ten minutes to do so before the neighboring military outposts became too suspicious. Once the uplink was reestablished, he sent back false meteorology data for a particularly violent ion storm which had blocked the going signals. Lore reassured himself that that should deter any Romulan military forces from making an excursion for no reason. Then he began hunting down all the information he was after and copying it to separate memory ports. As he examined some of the missing information he found, his blood turned to ice in his veins.

The Valdour had locked onto an interesting signature on the Scimitar just before the explosion and beamed a Starfleet officer aboard. But the evidence and logs had been tampered with. The order was issued by Subcommander Donatra and she had not released a word of the incident to Starfleet.

An error message began turning up and the computer systems began shutting down of their own accord. Lore's screen caught a trace back to the current station; he immediately began shutting down the links and packing up his own equipment. Less than half of the information he needed was downloaded to his own storage device but that would have to be enough for now. He snatched his bag from the concrete floor and beamed back aboard his ship.

He did not have the complete transporter logs but he had managed to get a hold of some of the personal logs of the officers aboard the Romulan vessel. Lore scanned through the files, coming across one of interest. One of the lower ranking medical officers reported a peculiar patient that was beamed to medical bay and placed in stasis. They were ordered not to reveal to the incident to anyone before setting course for Romulus with the other ships. He probed the files for any further information on patient but he could find nothing. There was no record of death, no official patient record. It was as though it had never happened.

It appeared to Lore as though this Subcommander Donatra had the answers to a few of his questions. He leaned back with a huff, flexing his stiff, cold fingers as the warp engines hummed to life.

.

.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – Questions Unanswered

.

.

Jamaal gazed intently at the game of _hankura_ splayed out before her. Three boards had circles of indents carved into the wood to hold the places of the red and white stones used as playing pieces. The object of the game is for a player to have the highest ratio of their colored stone on the three boards. This is accomplished by creating circles of stones, starting from the center of each board and working your way out. Within the circumference of each circle of stones is a player's territory, or in the end game, their total points. Jamaal had nearly completed a large circle on the outer rim while she began a new, smaller ring on the board to her right. On one side of the smaller center circle, Naghera Ilyn's white stones had begun to invade her circle of red stones.

Naghera smirked triumphantly as she successfully replaced another cluster of Jamaal's red stones with her white. For a moment, Naghera looked up expectantly at Jamaal as though daring her to reverse the progress she had made with that single maneuver. Jamaal sullenly picked out a move she had been saving for worse tides.

It was strange the way events had taken a turn upon her being reunited with her homeworld. She had returned to find all systems of order upturned into chaos and the society where she had once flourished was now tainted with cultural distinctions from outside their safe, comfortable boundaries.

She tapped her finger impatiently along the desk, willing Ilyn to make a mistake in her game. Tonight, Jamaal was losing and biting back the sour bile that came with it. Frequently the two met for this little sport of strategy, more recently at Ilyn's urging than her own. But tonight Naghera had not invited her over simply for a game of hankura.

Recently Ilyn and several other members of the council were growing suspicious of her activities. In fact, it was very possible that Naghera was informed of Bajaar's gathering the previous week. Jamaal had hoped the priestess would not make a public announcement of her interrogation so she had consented to meet her for a private confrontation.

"I wished to speak with you before you went on leave." Jamaal raised her eyes and braced herself for the coming subtleties and slights of an investigation.

"I was curious… where were you heading? For this… expedition?" The query was more than just disinterested conversation.

"You wish to know where I will be hiking?" Jamaal asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes."

"Through the southern mountains pass. Where I always go. I may attempt to reach the Dak Ruins this time…" Jamaal made another move, seizing a small group of white stones on the left hand board.

Naghera nodded. "I would be weary if I were you. I have heard reports of a faction keeping small underground camps nested the south, near those ruins. There is a risk that these splinter groups may become hostile. Especially towards members of the council …"

Jamaal shook her head, giving a small, condescending smile. "Sounds like it would make an entertaining story, Priestess."

"Jamaal, you _know_ we cannot risk any rebel attempts to sabotage our relations with the Shaerdi."

"The outsiders." she supplied with venom. Jamaal recognized Naghera's reprimand on her attempt to debase the point and decided to drop the subject. "I understand."

With a few final moves, Ilyn captured the largest red circle in the center board and the game was finished. Naghera leaned back with a small smile on her face, relishing the sensation of her rare victory.

"I would hate to be discourteous but I have another appointment with the minister of foreign affairs." She said smugly, politely as she could inviting Jamaal to leave at her own discretion.

"Have a pleasant evening, Priestess." Jamaal replied evenly.

"One more thing… keep an eye out for yourself while you're out there." Jamaal's chest tightened. Though the two were always at odds with each other, it was obvious she still respected their friendship. Naghera Ilyn could have had her stripped from her title and practically sentenced into exile. But their years of friendship had ties stronger than diplomacy.

"I will." Within the next minute, Jamaal had finished her glass and slipped out the door into the warm evening.

.

.

Jamaal crept down the streetway of peculiar houses until she reached her own home, with its small garden and narrow path slightly more unkempt than those surrounding it. She pushed open the heavy wooden door to her home and found all the lights inside extinguished.

"Lore?" She called out, but was greeted with silence.

She had left for the diplomatic mission nearly a week ago and had remained out of contact with Lore. She knew B-4 had returned to that same Federation starship just after her departure. Had Lore gone with him perhaps? She doubted it but made a mental note to send B-4 an inquiry.

Her communicator buzzed. She pulled up an unrecognizable frequency.

"Are you preparing, Jim?"

"Checking up on me is not necessary." Jamaal sighed, somewhat relieved that Naghera had not decided to call her back.

"Did you meet with Ilyn this evening?"

Jamaal ground her teeth.

"You're spying on _internal_ affairs now? This must be a new low, even for you."

"I believed she would suspect deception."

"She can only suspect," Jamaal rolled her neck, massaging her should with her free hand. "But she knows nothing."

.

* * *

.

Files flicked across the screen as Picard read through the upcoming assignments and sipped absentmindedly at a glass of lukewarm tea. The Enterprise would be diverting to the Federation-K'Vin embassy on Kirlos II to settle of few trading disputes between. However, this assignment was the least pressing of the lot and could wait until after the Enterprise had undergone a few routine maintenance procedures at starbase. The door to his ready room chirruped.

"Come." Picard grinned a small, boyish smile as a very familiar face peeked around the corner.

"Captain."

"B-4," he stood, extending his hand in welcome. "It's a pleasure to have you back onboard."

"It is good to be here, sir… I'm glad to see not too much has changed."

"I've heard you've come a pretty long way to meet us. The _Gamma_ Quadrant?" He marveled.

"That's correct, sir." B-4 grinned sheepishly.

"Well it sounds as though you have something of a story to tell."

"It's an… interesting… one to say the least."

"Well. If it's any more interesting than these reports then I should be glad to hear it. Can I offer you anything? Tea?"

"Please." B-4 took the hot teacup from the dispenser and found a seat.

"It's… uh… difficult to begin. The suspect in Daystrom security breach. You must know that I was involved in her escape. But she's not at fault here, Captain. She has helped me to discover a beautiful world for myself. I became somewhat enraptured,"

"With her?" Picard raised his eyebrows.

B-4 chuckled briefly at his assumption. "No… no, she's is a dear friend. I meant with my life there. It's a whole world, Captain. With a wholly different culture. I can't even begin…"

Picard held up a hand and nodded sympathetically. "I believe I understand. Many of us, especially among Starfleet, have developed… severe cases of wanderlust. It appears as though you are not immune to that facet of human nature. Your brother was not either."

B-4 paused considering this for a long moment and then stood. "Neither of them were, sir." Picard's eyebrows knitted together so slightly for a moment. "If you will excuse me Captain, I am going to go find Geordi."

"I… I believe he's down in engineering." he supplied, distractedly.

"Thank you." B-4 ducked out of the ready room, still mulling over the captain's words.

.

.

The turbolift doors opened and the familiar, clean scent of engineering permeated over him. It had a distinctly chemical smell which B-4 recognized as a common mechanical cleaner used on many of the systems in engineering. He waltzed around the console table nested in the center of the room.

"Geordi!" B-4 called up the shaft over the sound of the pulsing warp engines and a haphazard clanging. He heard a short tuft of laughter echo down in response. Geordi LaForge peeked over the railing, his blue eyes grinning.

"Come on up! I've just been recalibrating the deuterium control conduit. A defocused area has just begun to form and staff is pretty low this morning. Here hold this beam right there for a second."

B-4 grinned. It was good to be back on the Enterprise for a while and he truly had missed the engineer's conversations.

"So you dropped off the face of the Galaxy for a while because…? You needed time to _think_?" Geordi shook his head, still laughing lightly at his friend. "You had us all worried for a good while."

"Well, you know it wasn't just for my sake that I left…" B-4 said seriously. "I don't believe I was the only one that needed time." They both knew he was referring to the loss of Data.

B-4 changed the subject. "Do you remember the last conversation we had before I left?"

"You reminded me of your plan to rendezvous with the Enterprise." Geordi's blue eyes peered into his own.

"No, not then. It was always my intention to return at some point and I did… but I'm talking about _before_ then. We had a conversation about Lore. You… you told me you didn't want me digging. And I lied. I said I wouldn't." Geordi stared at him intensely, a ridge forming in the middle of his usually smooth brow.

"When you found me at the Daystrom Institute, things were looking… bleak."

"Bleak?"

"Yes." B-4 uncomfortably shifted his weight, still vaguely clasping the tools in his hands. "I was searching for Lore."

A long pause spiraled between them as Geordi absorbed this information and tried to organize his questions.

"I thought you were just searching for information? Looking up on your past?" Geordi asked, his suspicions growing.

"No." B-4 finished lamely. "After I found Jamaal, you remember Jamaal," Geordi nodded. She had been mentioned in several of his letters. "Well… she knew Lore. She was attempting to return him to her homeworld. To be reactivated."

"The two of you… _reactivated_ him?"

"…Yes."

"B. What would inspire you to do something like that? Don't you… understand how dangerous he is? He- he…" Geordi stopped and worked to calm himself. "The man nearly had me and Captain Picard killed. Not to mention the deaths he is responsible for on those outposts."

"I know."

"Why, B?"

"He's my brother, Geordi. There is not a whole lot I can do about that. Besides, Lore is not everything he may have appeared to be."

"Where is he now?" Geordi sketchily glanced out of the observation windows, as though he expected a massive, predatory ship to decloak out of nowhere.

"You know I can't tell you that... I couldn't even be sure _myself_. He's never in the same place from one day to the next…." B-4 paused again, trying to think of a way to break the horrible silence.

Geordi shook his head disbelievingly. "Does the captain know about this?"

"Hm… not in so many words. I suppose I will need to inform him sooner or later."

"Yeah, you think?"

B-4 watched the facial expression blossoming across Geordi face as he continued to repair the conduit. "You're upset." It was not a question.

"Maybe… just a little." Geordi paused, his nostril flared. "No, actually, I'm more than upset, B."

"I am sorry you feel that way, but justice is not reserved for the innocent."

Geordi snorted. "_Justice_… That man does not deserve _justice_ or anything. Especially not sympathy from you, B."

.

* * *

.

[Don't Hate Me - Porcupine Tree]

.

The blinking navigation panel indicated that Lore was located in a remote sector of Romulan Territory. With a new course plotted in, he disengaged his engines and switched over to warp speed. Though vortex transport was faster and more efficient than warp, it also had much higher impedance when trekking through tight-knit regions like the neutral zone. And it was not his intention to be noticed by Romulan scouts.

He began a long range scan of the area and found several outposts along with a few transport ships. Lore shielded his vessel and set it on course for the nearest Romulan starbase. From several light years' distance, he used the transport vessel's clearance codes along with a forged course plan to request information on the Bassen Rift. The station complied, relaying copies of the files directly into his computer. Most of them were encrypted, which proved to be a simple obstacle to overcome. Lore frantically began scanning through them but he found that they contained little of the information which he needed. The battle that took place there appeared to be nothing more than a small altercation, containing no real events of importance. Though one file in particular did catch his eye… a reference to their transport logs. It was a ship's log from the first officer specifically indicating that no one had beamed to or from the Valdour for the duration of the battle. It was peculiar that the high-ranking officer found such an insignificant detail important enough to mention in the logs. Lore bit his lip, puzzled.

Dissatisfied, he navigated his vessel away from the starbase and lay in new coordinates for unmanned communications outpost which lay further within Romulan territory. For thirteen hours at maximum warp, Lore had his thoughts to himself. It bothered him that the files were so incomplete. It was as though all of them had been searched and anything of any importance had selectively been picked out. Frustrated, Lore leaned back in his chair staring into the stars streaking past. Data was allowed this sight everyday with his career in Starfleet. _Data…_ Data was gone and yet Lore had continued to search.

B-4 had supplied a complete set of Federation records about the incident. Data had received some of Starfleet's most distinguished honors. But what did that matter if one was no longer alive to receive them? He bit down on his lip in guilt. Even after his attempts to twist his brother into something evil, he was still that same good person underneath. Pride swelled in his chest but the loss made it turn sour. What was Lore in a world without Data? But Data gave his life for what he believed in and in turn he may have accomplished what it truly means to be human. Rubbing his temples, he struggled to pull his thoughts away from his loss.

.

.

On the surface of the barren ice planet, Lore struggled against the howling winds which tore at his frame. He was scarcely dressed properly for the ferocious methane blizzard that was streaking through the region. The storm blew ribbons of sleet that were over a kilometer long, painting the sky a steely grey in the darkness of the distant sun. He could feel the drag on his body as his systems used an excessive amount of energy to keep him within a functional temperature range. Again he suppressed an involuntarily shudder in the subzero temperatures as he wrapped the loose black nylon shirt a little tighter around his himself as the boreal winds whipped ruthlessly at his slender build. From behind his mask, he gazed up at the communications station which served as a buffer between the few Romulan military outposts in the sector. The large dish sat atop the steel-reinforced warehouse as an icon, receiving transmissions to and from Romulus.

The entrance was not secure but as he stepped inside, he had to struggle slightly to close the door behind him against the vicious winds. It slammed shut, the sound echoing through the spacious area. The station operated on automatic control and was completely devoid of occupation. Lore sighed slightly after removing his face mask and paused for a moment, listening to the symphony of humming computers mixed with the diminished shrieks of the wind outside.

As the computers worked to relay its transmissions, Lore began setting his own information systems. The station had an uplink with the High Council's data banks and if he was able to penetrate their security, then he knew he could the information he was searching for would be contained.

Lore found it just a little bit suspicious that Starfleet's investigation was unable to find _any_ evidence of Data's presence about the Scimitar after its destruction. There were no remnants of a body, no positronic signature among the debris –the strong positronic signature being the most distinctive piece of evidence they could obtain.

Laying out his own equipment next to the computer stations, he shut down the uplink with the Romulan core. Once the link was down, he hastily began overwriting all the security-locked files with his own host files. He estimated that he had less than ten minutes to do so before the neighboring military outposts became too suspicious. Once the uplink was reestablished, he sent back false meteorology data for a particularly violent ion storm which had blocked the going signals. Lore reassured himself that that should deter any Romulan military forces from making an excursion for no reason. Then he began hunting down all the information he was after and copying it to separate memory ports. As he examined some of the missing information he found, his blood turned to ice in his veins.

The Valdour had locked onto an interesting signature on the Scimitar just before the explosion and beamed a Starfleet officer aboard. But the evidence and logs had been tampered with. The order was issued by Subcommander Donatra and she had not released a word of the incident to Starfleet.

An error message began turning up and the computer systems began shutting down of their own accord. Lore's screen caught a trace back to the current station; he immediately began shutting down the links and packing up his own equipment. Less than half of the information he needed was downloaded to his own storage device but that would have to be enough for now. He snatched his bag from the concrete floor and beamed back aboard his ship.

He did not have the complete transporter logs but he had managed to get a hold of some of the personal logs of the officers aboard the Romulan vessel. Lore scanned through the files, coming across one of interest. One of the lower ranking medical officers reported a peculiar patient that was beamed to medical bay and placed in stasis. They were ordered not to reveal to the incident to anyone before setting course for Romulus with the other ships. He probed the files for any further information on patient but he could find nothing. There was no record of death, no official patient record. It was as though it had never happened.

It appeared to Lore as though this Subcommander Donatra had the answers to a few of his unanswered questions. He leaned back with a huff, flexing his stiff, cold fingers as the warp engines hummed to life.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

[Paragon Point – Tim Hecker]

.

.

_Nearly Four Years Ago–_

_._

Commander Donatra gripped the arm of her chair as her ship bucked under the force of another disrupter blast. The shields were failing on all decks and the ship could scarcely withstand another attack.

"Steady…"

The lights went dim and the screens flickered out as emergency power kicked in under another barrage of weapons. She was thrown from her seat and rolled, her head nearly making an impact with the science station's blackened panel.

"Hail the Enterprise!"

One of the control conduits on her bridge exploded in a cascade of white sparks and the screen flickered as she steadied herself in her chair. The mess of a scene on the view was replaced with an image of the Enterprise's bridge crew.

"Captain. I'm afraid that drink will have to wait."

"Do you have life support?"

"For the moment…" Donatra observed the condition of her bridge. "But we're dead in the water."

"Understood." The Enterprise crew was tossed again and the screen went dead.

"Continue to scan the Scimitar! Search for human life signs. We've been ordered to return Shinzon to Romulus at all costs. Do not let him perish aboard that ship! Donatra to engineering, how long until we have warp drive back online?"

"Two hours at least, commander."

Donatra's jaw ticked. She could only wait and watch .

.

* * *

.

Data sprinted down the hall, ducking underneath the explosions of comm panels along the interior of the vessel. All Reman personnel he passed were preoccupied with battle and failed to take notice of his presence.

He entered the spacious engine room and at superhuman speed Data absorbed the situation; the accelerating thalaron weapon, Shinzon's lifeless form draped over a scaffolding spear and Picard's state of health, as well as calculating the force it would take to destroy the weapon and the chances of he and Picard returning safely to the Enterprise. For a moment, he allowed himself to regret the unfortunate situation. The man before him was the bravest Captain he had ever known, risking his life time and time again to save his own. Without words, Data pinned the transport-node prototype on Captain Picard's uniform, just above his insignia. The Captain opened his mouth to protest but it was far too late. He phased out, leaving Data behind.

"Goodbye." He whispered.

The computer's lifeless voice echoed an alien countdown to the weapon's deployment. Data grasped the phase rifle steady in his hands and fired at the weapon's core. His eyes gently closed and, for a moment he allowed memories to brush his mind. A blue light seemed to wrap itself around him, accompanied by a faint whirring, which was barely audible over the sounds of destruction. The engineering section was succumbing to the explosive force of the weapon. Forty-two years seemed like minutes compared Data's estimated life expectancy. And now his final seconds were slipping away at all too quick a pace. He was met with a distinct sense of resolution. All his life he wondered if he would ever die. Now, he _knew_ he was going to die and took comfort in the fact that it was for a greater purpose. The light grew brighter and the whirring increased in volume until they too both faded again into darkness and silence.

.

* * *

.

"Captain! My sensors are showing the Scimitar is reaching dangerously levels of radiation. It will destroy itself within minutes. The Thalaron radiation would decimate everything aboard this ship. If we're to reach a safe distance, we need to go to warp _now_."

The young science officer turned to his commanding officer, his eyes wide and fearful.

"Can we target key systems on the ship, to destroy the weapon before it is deployed?"

"Sir!" Her communications officers interrupted her. "I've got a lock on two humanoid figures!"

"The risk of causing a cascade failure in containment is too high."

"Beam them both aboard! Prepare to go to warp."

A message was patched through to her communicator. "I was only able to hold a lock on one of the signatures… sir, I think you need to come down here."

Donatra was already in the lift.

.

In the transporter room, she stared wide-eyed as the medical team crouched around a pale human figure, desperately trying to clean him up. But as they wiped away pitch-colored fluid, they only revealed more questions and confusion. His uniform was torn at the chest to reveal a gaping hole and lifeless mechanical workings. Black stains rimmed the edge of the wound and smeared the grey floors. His head was scalped on one side, the skin stripped away to reveal a metallic skull covered in the same pitch-colored fluid. Her hands fumbled as she worked to control her communicator.

"Donatra to Suran, p-please report to medical!"

Donatra followed the team as they lifted the lifeless form onto an anti-grav stretcher and guided him to medical bay. She recognized the insignia as a Lieutenant Commander of Starfleet. She flinched as the chief medical officer on duty sealed the containment pod and turned to the commanders.

"A mechanically engineered, fully robotic human."

"An android?"

"That is correct."

"How could we not have known that the Federation has advanced this far?"

"We have known." She turned as Suran entered and for a moment they could only stare, marveling at the strangeness of the android. "This is one of Starfleet's more sophisticated advancements."

His body was in horrible shape, the eyes staring blankly, the pupils small and clouded. She had dealt with the death before. But this was different. It was an abhorred abomination of death, the death of something unnatural and disturbing. Donatra wanted it off of her ship. She pulled herself out of her horrified reverie, recoiling away from the macabre sight.

"I will contact the Enterprise-"

"Take no action." He barked, holding out his hand to block her path.

"This is a _commander_, he is _Starfleet_ _personnel_. We cannot hold him like this." Her teeth bared around her words as she spoke.

"I find it difficult to believe that this is anything other than Starfleet's property... besides, it is beyond repair."

"He was their officer, _they_ may be able to repair him." She tried to give off the air of a commander but Suran had always known how to make her feel like a first-year cadet. He eyed the body under the sterile field, the gaping hole in the chest.

"I sincerely doubt that."

"They will still want the body returned."

"They would be likely to _blame_ us for its destruction. What would that do to the future of your career? Please try to look at this objectively, Donatra… This is a highly advanced piece of machinery… imagine what we could learn from this." He gestured to the containment pod.

She glanced down and gritted her teeth, nodding solemnly. She may not have agreed… but this one officer could make the difference in her future with the Tal-Shiar.

She took a hesitant step backward, still eyeing the body. "I will return to the bridge. Take whatever actions you feel necessary to secure him. We leave for Romulus as soon as our engines are back online."

He quirked a short, "aye, Subcommander."

Part of her squirmed at the idea of holding that… piece of machinery on board her vessel. But Suran was right, the android presented a distinct opportunity to advance her career, more so than returning Shinzon as a war criminal. And still she could not shake the disturbing unease that began to fester in the back of her mind.

.

.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

.

[Wurlitzer - Lushlife Project]

.

Donatra rested alone against a leather seat cover, the whine of the monorail engines lulling her senses. She politely picked at her meal, occasionally sipping a light Romulan wine. The meal was a bit rich for her tastes but she had become used to these new luxuries in her early career advancement.

She was looking forward to seeing her brother whom had just gotten married and moved out of the city. Since she had served aboard the Valdour, she had not seen him in nearly two years. She had even been absent for his union ceremony and had only met his fiancé once before. She let out a long sigh.

Without warning, the ornate paper screen door to her private compartment slid open and a pale, well-dressed man pardoned his way in, closing the screen behind him.

"Good evening." His accent was strongly northern, and she found this odd considering his sleek, expensive attire.

"Can I help you?" Her tone rivaled her icy gaze.

"Actually, I believe you can. My name is Lore." He held out his hand politely which she ignored.

Inside her pocket was a transceiver. Security would come to her aid at the lightest touch of a button. "And _I_ believe I could have you arrested for an intrusion like this."

"This will not take long." Lore noted a brief expression of fearful recognition brush her face before it returned to a smooth mask.

"The incident that occurred within the Bassen rift three years ago. What can you tell me?"

"That is classified information… the incident was kept confidential… How do you–?"

"You beamed an officer off of that ship, just before it was destroyed. I need to know who it was."

"It was one of my officers,"

Lore worked to stay patient. "It was a Starfleet officer and I have reason to believe it was someone of importance."

"And what makes you believe that I would be willing to help you?"

Lore saw her make a discrete motion towards her pocket. "No one will interrupt us, I _assure_ you" he hissed.

She glared at him and in a flash, whipped out a Romulan light-class disrupter from under her seat. She pulled the trigger. Nothing.

Lore ignored her weapon and continued. "The officer's name was Data… he was my brother. Perhaps you remember him? _Recognize_ him, even? He served aboard the Federation ship, _Enterprise_… He is an android."

She did remember. No matter how she tried she could not forget.

"You're from the Federation," She took another slow, deliberate bite from the elegant meal before her. "I will not help you."

"_Your_ ship pulled him from the Scimitar. Where is he now?" His patience was growing thin.

"I have _no _idea what you are talking about." With this Lore pulled out his own weapon, a classic semi-automatic tactical pistol, onto the barrel of which he was twisting a silencer.

"Donatra… do you have any siblings?"

She ground her teeth, her eyes burning with hatred.

"Then you understand." She watched him for a moment, silently debating.

"Do you drink, Lore?" She tilted the bottle in his direction, her black polished nails glittering under the light. He accepted the lavender-colored beverage graciously.

"If you're here… then I take it you already know as much as I."

Lore shook his head. "Not quite. When I started pulling files from the Romulan databases, the whole system shut down. Everything was erased, even links from other files. I retrieved very little information."

Her jaw clenched and unclenched.

"Commander Nazar was a present commander in the fleet sent to retrieve Shinzon. She intended to use the android to develop a kind of automated weapon which could utilize independent reasoning in order to conduct dangerous long-range missions."

"_Nazar?_ Isn't she a member of the delegation proposing talks of peace with the Federation?"

"Yes. Additionally, she feared that returning the android would disrupt future negotiations with the Federation. Eventually a new faction rose within the government and the idea of weaponizing the technology was discarded in favor of peace. The android is still in stasis. He is kept in The Romulan Martial Research Institute."

"And they let the Federation believe what it would." Lore spoke, almost to himself. "Is he alive?"

"I don't know. His body sustained heavy damage from thalaron radiation. I do not believe they were able to repair him. He would still be in stasis." Lore insides went cold. "You will want to contact Commander Nazar. She's a board member of the robotics institution your brother was sent to."

Lore stood to leave. "Thank you… for your help."

Donatra stared blankly ahead of her, as though willing Lore to disappear. The door quietly slid closed behind him.

.

.


End file.
